


The Fallen House of Malfoy

by CAW



Category: Harry Potter (movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: (also... don't be angry if i get some basic facts wrong), (im not even a part of this fandom lol), (its a big developmental age gap fellas), (somewhat), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Bad Parenting, Character Death, Character studies, Consensual Underage Sex, Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Lovers, Family Issues, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Beta, Obsession, Underage Relationship(s), Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, canon character death, so you have my permission to scream at me if i spelt something wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAW/pseuds/CAW
Summary: This is a series of short stories revolving around the lives of the Malfoy family, beginning during Lucius' seventh year and ending on Scorpius' first day of school. Expect quite a bit of romantic content along with quite a bit of angst as well. These stories are not necessarily in chronological order.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	1. Sage

**Author's Note:**

> POV: Draco Malfoy

Several house elves, flaming sage wands clasped tightly in their shaking hands, scurried around the young wizard as he sat quietly in the doorway of the main hall. Rain bounced harmlessly onto the grey cobblestone walkway that led to the wroght iron gate in front of the boy, but not a single drop dared to touch the white locks that were neatly slicked back upon his head. Grey smoke bellowed out from the door behind him as the elves continued to cleanse Malfoy Manor, the wizard's new school robes splayed out around his tense body as he twisted his wand in between his fingers absentmindedly.

With one foot on each stone step, Draco watched the darkening sky with a grim expression as a crash was heard from deep within the Manor, the wizard not even turning to see if the house elves were scrambling to fix whatever had broken because he knew that they were. They were always so _obedient_ , those nitwitted house elves. But then again, it was all in the name of avoiding punishment and gaining their freedom with as many of their limbs as possible. And ever since that one stupid elf had decided to put some oleander leaves in the Lord of Malfoy Manor's fire whiskey, there hadn't been any more incidents. Apparently the one time had been enough of a warning for the rest of the silly creatures.

A stinging breeze cut through the crisp autumn air as boredom slowly settled over the wizard, Draco twirling his wand carefully in his right hand to entertain himself until it was time to Apparate to King's Cross. Tiny whisps of magic escaped the tip of his wand whilst he pretended to cast a spell on the house elves working behind him, pretending that he was making them run along the emerald carpeted floor softer and clean the marbled staircase faster than they were. That's what he would do when he got older, the wizard thought, he would put a spell on those house elves to make them work quicker when they misbehaved and dropped things. That's what his father did when he was in a foul mood; Sometimes the elves would be up for days upon days before finally being allowed to sleep. 

So caught up in his game of make believe, a smile growing merrily on his wind burnt cheeks, Draco didn't hear the light footfalls that were walking up behind him, the smoke from the sage bellowing out the doorway even more as Narcissa breezed through. His mother's clicking heels stopped to his left, a gentle hand carding through Draco's blond tresses as the young wizard lowered his wand with a sheepish expression and glanced up at his mother with wide, silver eyes. "Do I even need to say anything?" Narcissa asked calmly, disapproval radiating off of her elegant, nearly ethereal form as Draco rose from his seat with a wince and tucked his wand into his robes. He had been sitting on the hard steps for too long and now his legs and backside were numb.

"I was only practicing for school," Draco countered crossly, one hand reaching out from underneath the invisible barrier he had created in order to keep himself dry. As a dozen fat raindrops pummeled onto his translucent skin, Draco mumbled, "It wasn't even a real spell."

Narcissa hummed, tucking a stray strand of her son's hair behind his ear before placing her hand firmly on his lithe shoulder. The expression on her face was thoughtful as Draco turned to face her, his expensive robes swishing around him. "Even such," Narcissa mused, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain, "It simply won't do to have a Malfoy get in trouble with the Ministry over something as silly as a parlor trick, now will it?" Her grip tightened around the bone of Draco's shoulder, the wizard shifting uncomfortably as Narcissa's easy smile melted into something darker. "We wouldn't want the Ministry poking their noses in something they wouldn't understand. They do have the tendency to overreact over such matters."

Rolling his shoulder out of his mother's manicured hand, Draco huffed and trudged back into the foyer, shaking his cloak out as he replied cockily, "Even if I did a real spell, they'd never figure out it was me who cast it." The repeated clicking of expensive shoes alerted the wizard that Narcissa was following him and he whirled on her with a smirk and a gleam in his eye. Narcissa had raised a brow at her son's words, her eyes drifting from house elf to house elf as they cleaned diligently around her, and Draco felt a surge of delight pass deliciously from the top of his head to his boots. It wasn't often he could provoke an uncalculated reaction from either of his parents, so he savored the feeling for as long as he could.

"My dearest dragon, there is still so much you need to learn about the Ministry." Though her words were soft spoken, the irked tone was clearly evident in her voice, "Go find your Father; He should be writing in his study. We are already late as it is." Narcissa finally looked away from the elves as she uttered those words, the corners of her mouth twitching with what could be the makings of a smile as her son rolled his eyes with a pout. The happiness that came from besting his mother was gone as he turned on his heel and nearly bumped into a passing elf, the wizard scowling and nearly kicking the poor creature in the behind as he marched over to the grand staircase. Draco's shoes squeaked obscenely against the marble as he marched up the steps two at a time. 

"And dear?" Narcissa's voice carried gently through the smoky air, Draco pausing on the final step in order to look at his mother directly. The intense smell of sage blazed through his lungs as he gazed down on his mother from the top step, his breathing becoming labored as he inhaled and exhaled the essence of the herb. It was quite difficult to see Narcissa through the haze, her body nothing more than a shadow that moved wistfully through the fog. Her voice though… Draco could hear that perfectly. "Do remember your place in this family, Draco. I won't tolerate little boys that don't know how to be seen and not heard."


	2. Blackberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Narcissa Black Malfoy

Narcissa had just finished tying a black satin bow around her lavender scented locks, her dark eyes never wavering from the dipping and twisting of her hands behind her head, when Bellatrix had flounced into her room quite uninvited. Her sister's hair was as unruly as a finch's attempt at a nest and her own onyx orbs glowed mischievously as she plucked a black berry off of the china plate that had been sitting quietly on Narcissa's bedside table. Watching her sister lift the berry and pop it lightly into her mouth through the safety of her mirror made Narcissa's stomach roil with displeasure. The berries were simply there as a lure, tempting her into risking the purity of her dress for a small taste. She wouldn't fall for the bait. 

Lowering her hands and clasping them firmly in front of her, Narcissa breathed in deeply, trying to calm the feeling of uncertainty clawing in her stomach, and watched as Bellatrix reached for another berry, a trickle of purple dripping down slowly from the corner of her mouth all the way to the tip of her chin. "You look a mess," Narcissa snipped just before the berry touched Bellatrix's lips, her eye catching a stray strand sticking up from behind her head and her hands quickly reaching up to fix it to perfection. Everything had to be perfect.

Turning only slightly to give her sister an annoyed look, Bellatrix stuck out her tongue and plopped the berry in her mouth. Narcissa simply shook her head and continued to readjust her bow. "And you look ridiculous," Bellatrix retorted as she scooped up a handful of the berries and glided over to Narcissa, her mouth curving into a sly grin when she caught sight of the pendent choking around her sister's neck, "That's a nice little charm, in't it."

Raising a hand self consciously to her neck, Narcissa looked at Bellatrix through the mirror, the cold glow of the ceiling lamp making her appear paler than she normally was. "It was a gift," Narcissa replied with a sniff, a finger tracing the engraved snake lightly as her other hand plucked a bobby pin off of her oaken bureau. Today was simply not the day her hair wanted to cooperate.

Bellatrix snorted as she leaned one hand against the bureau and quickly shoved another berry into her mouth, tilting her head to the side as if she were examining her sister with a razor focus. "And from which suitor was it again?" Bellatrix asked innocently, Narcissa poking herself harshly in the skull with the sharp end of the bobby pin as she tried to remain calm. All the years that had consisted of unnecessary etiquette lessons were not going to be thrown away because Bellatrix wanted to stir the pot on the day that was meant to be about  _ Narcissa _ .

"I do believe this was from Lucius," Narcissa replied smoothly, dropping her hands to her hands and practicing a soft smile in the mirror as she examined her work critically. This was probably as good as she was going to be able to fix her hair, with the ceremony less than an hour away. "I rather think it brings out the silver flecks in my eyes," Narcissa continued as Bellatrix moved away from the mirror, a scowl horribly hidden behind the thick black curls falling into her face, "Don't be that way, Bella. Perhaps that Lestrange boy you fancy will show for the celebration as well."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes as she squished one of the berries in between her thumb and forefinger. "Perhaps," she grumbled before licking the purple seeds off her fingers. Her black eyes connected with Narcissa's, who was gently coating her lips with a mauve lip balm. "Are you worried?"

Narcissa puckered her lips as she made sure that her sparse makeup looked acceptable as she mulled over her answer. In truth, she was both at ease and quite nervous about her situation. She had known for a very long time that sooner or later, she was going to be married into another wealthy Pure Blooded family; That was something unavoidable, Lord Black had reminded her many, many times. And to be quite plain, there were far more heinous families she could be forced to join then the Malfoys. Lucius was… was not the worst option. He was clever and elegant and someone who Narcissa could learn to trust, especially since they had known each other since they were very young. Narcissa wished the marriage could wait at least until she had completed her seven years at Hogwarts; But that wasn't what traditional Pure Blooded families did. And the Lord of the House of Black was quite stuck in silly, old tradition.

Satisfied with her appearance, Narcissa cast one final look at her mirror before turning to face her sister, her face showing no expression as she lifted her wand delicately into her hand. "No," Narcissa replied lightly, her breathing evening out as she stared into the calculated eyes of her sister, "There is no reason to be concerned. I believe this will be a joyous union between House Malfoy and House Black."

"Bah," Bellatrix spat out as she swallowed another black berry, her hands now coated in the sticky residue. Giving her sister a sideways look before stepping back to the china plate to grab another handful of black berries, Bellatrix snickered under her breath and muttered, "You can almost fool me with that hogwash, Cissa, but I know you too well." She gave Narcissa a knowing look before continuing gleefully, "You don't have to tell me, you know. You couldn't possibly keep secrets from family even if you tried. It's almost impossible, really."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes as she crossed her room, taking a glance at the tiny metal pocket watch ticking rhythmically from her bed before sitting carefully on her white comforter and asking nonchalantly, "Where is Andromeda?" She was supposed to be entertaining the large group of Pure Blooded wizards and witches that had journeyed here for the celebration down stairs in the parlor, but Narcissa hadn't had the time to confirm whether her sister was doing what she said she was. Andromeda did have a tendency to get distracted.

Bellatrix shook her head, black curls bouncing across her angled features, before replying, "I haven't the foggiest." Plucking one of the black berries off the plate, Bellatrix smiled cruelly at her sister and asked sweetly as she extended her hand, "Would you like a berry, dear sister?"

"You know I can't," Narcissa replied, resignation dripping from her voice as her hands smoothed over the white of her dress and her stomach growled. If anything,  _ anything _ , got onto this dress, after the months it had taken to create and the amount of money had taken to buy, Narcissa would be lucky if her father and mother (and all the party guests) didn't curse her until she was a screaming, writhing mess of blood on the floor of the main hall. Narcissa shuddered as she gently pushed away her sister's hand when it got too close, the image her mind produced of her grotesque fate almost making her sick.

Bellatrix knew this. She had always liked Mother and Father's friends more than she ever did. In fact, it was more than likely that when she reached the proper age, Bellatrix would receive a Dark Mark from Lord Voldemort himself. If Narcissa didn't know better, she'd say that Bellatrix  _ wanted  _ her to get punished. "Oh well," Bellatrix sing-songed as she pushed the remaining berries into her mouth, her eyes glittering with deceit when she managed to swallow all of them, "It's for the best, I suppose. Wouldn't want for something as silly as a sullied dress to ruin your big day, now would we?" She laughed and Narcissa pinched her lips together tightly.

Bellatrix may be able to intimidate with the fewest of words, but Narcissa would sooner die before admitting that.


	3. Pity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Lucius Malfoy

It was quite difficult to breath as silence finally fell over the table, the surrounding members of the Dark Lord's ranks refraining from making a single sound as Nagini slid off the table with a hiss. Lucius, for his part, kept his eyes firmly on where the body of that poor, defenseless Professor had once rested, not trusting himself not to bolt for the nearest door if he were to move only an inch. He could feel the tension radiating off of Narcissa and Draco, the heavy feeling of dread that now enveloped his every movement seemingly resting upon their shoulders as well. 

Their Lord, whomst spirits seemed to have been lifted following the demise of the muggle sympathizer, rested his new wand ( _ Lucius' wand _ , the wizard inwardly reminded himself) upon the table and stroked the top of Nagini's head calmly. "It feels good to revive the old ways," Voldemort breathed eventually, a few of the Death Eaters closest to him snickering in agreement. Bellatrix, her eyes twinkling with madness, cackled gleefully and began bouncing in her seat after the excitement of witnessing their Lord use his immense power. 

"This is the beginning of an age," the Dark Lord continued silkily, Lucius finally raising his eyes from the table and brushing his limp locks away from his face with trembling fingers. One quick glance at his family assured him that they were in no better state than he was; Narcissa had a vacant expression plastered upon her face and Draco was visibly panicked with a sheen of sweat glittering across his forehead. Turning his attention to their Lord as he tried to control his crumbled features, Lucius caught a quick glimpse at Severus, his pale eyes examining his friend for a brief moment before continuing to the head of the table. From the way the lines around Severus mouth were twitching ever so slightly, Lucius could tell that Severus was shaken from their Lord's display. "And now," Voldemort's voice rang like an alarm bell through Lucius' churning thoughts, "It is time to return the world to the way it is supposed to be. With the death of Harry Potter will come the rise of a new society; A society in which there will be no place for mudbloods or halfbreeds."

He paused as his loyal followers chortled in agreement, Bellatrix being the loudest among them as she whooped and clapped in joyous abandon. Lucius felt a half hearted chuckle drop from his lips. It didn't feel good in the slightest. With a simple wave of his arm, the dark fabric of his cloak dripping off the pale skin like acid, their Lord silenced them like a butcher silenced his prized animals.

"There will be a time for celebration," the Dark Lord continued lightly, his soulless eyes sliding over each of his followers as Nagini slowly slid under the table. When their Lord's eyes moved from Narcissa and moved upon himself, Lucius could feel his whole body clench up as an overwhelming urge to escape rippled dangerously at the corner of his mind. The mark, once such a prideful, sinfully beautiful thing, stung with hatred on his forearm. "For now, we must wait. Wait until the Order tries to move the Potter boy to their safe house. That is when we must eliminate him. Until then," Voldemort's eyes seemed to rest just a tad too long upon Severus, the wizard remaining utterly calm under his gaze, before finally turning back to where Wormtail rested anxiously against a marble pillar, "We will wait."

***

The manor was quiet now. The Death Eaters had long since Appareted away; Draco and Narcissa had retired to bed without a single word. And now Lucius sat all alone in his study, his hands playing with the silver snake head that had once been the handle of his wand as he gazed dully out of one of the manor's windows. To have his wand confiscated and nearly  _ broken _ in front of the men and women of Voldemort's army had been a terrifying experience. Lucius knew that this was simply the way he was supposed to repay the Dark Lord after failing him by not retrieving the Potter boy's prophecy and then being sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. This was his punishment; It simply took the form of humiliation in front of his family and vulnerability in front of the Dark Lord.

Lucius knew that his punishment could have been far,  _ far _ worse as well; Failing the Dark Lord had very high consequences after all. But their Lord had decided to spare him his life and the few remaining shreds of his dignity he still possessed after spending nearly nine months within the halls of Azkaban. It was most likely out of amusement, seeing as anyone that so much as looked at the Lord of Malfoy Manor could tell that he was suffering the most at the hands of his own fear. But nevertheless, their Lord could change his mind at any time and decide that perhaps Lucius  _ did _ deserve a few hours of suffering under the Cruxiatious curse.

With a shaky inhale, Lucius threw the silver handle lightly onto his desk and grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey resting directly to his left, his throat already burning as he poured the hard liquor directly into his mouth. This what he had become, he thought bitterly as he lowered the bottle and coughed roughly into his arm as he swallowed the liquid in one gulp, a trembling shell of a wizard that didn't know if he would ever get to perform magic with a wand again. That was what was really eating him up inside. The fear of not knowing if he would ever become the man that he once had been; The charismatic gentleman that had walked with confidence and had known exactly what his place in the world was. He had been the husband, the father, the lover, the wizard, even a member of the Ministry itself. Now all that Lucius was was a hollow shell that had been trying stubbornly to hold onto his pride and that too had been ripped from his hands the second he had relinquished his wand.

Pushing his long hair behind one ear as he raised his bottle, Lucius listened carefully as the floorboards outside his room squeaked and shifted as someone walked towards his study. His grey eyes never left the door as he drank down the rest of the liquid and rested the bottle on the desk as his body trembled. It could be possible that Voldemort had changed his mind about Lucius' punishment sooner than the wizard had predicted and, with no wand to protect himself with, Lucius simply straightened his shoulders and waited for the inevitable as the door knob twisted with a click. Hopefully whoever was beyond the door would move Lucius out of the manor once they were finished with him. To have Narcissa or, Salazar help him  _ Draco _ , see him in such a state of… disrepair would simply be unacceptable.

The door slid open rather quickly and Lucius couldn't deny the flinch that caught even himself off guard as he slowly recognized the wizard in front of him. "Severus," Lucius all but whispered the potion master's name as he lowered his head and tried to calm himself. Of course the Dark Lord would choose  _ him  _ of all people; He was still under suspicion of treason for his correspondence with Albus Dumbledore. This was simply another way for their Lord to test the potion's master on where his true loyalties really laid. This was a punishment for him as much as it was for Lucius. "Severus," Lucius said again, this time his voice taking on an icy tone as Severus turned and closed the study door behind him. Lucius gripped the edge of his desk, a million regrets circling his mind, as a blank expression rested easily on the potion master's face. His hands were clasped in front of him and Lucius could not tell if he had a wand concealed within the sleeve of his robes.

And then he moved forward as Lucius shifted carefully in his seat, his hair falling back into his face as he felt his friend's body against his side. "If our Lord sent you here in his stead," Lucius spoke uneasily, his eyes refusing to look away from the bottle he been drinking from, "Perhaps we should continue this conversation on the Manor grounds instead of in the confines of my study?"

"If our Lord had sent me here," Severus' dry voice replied carefully, the tips of his fingers grazing the back of Lucius' neck with nearly no pressure, "You would already be under the mercy of my wand. However," Lucius, his unease beginning to dissipate as a bony hand moved a hunk of his blond hair out his eyes, "the Dark Lord did not send me here and moving from this room will not be necessary if you do not wish it." He paused and Lucius took that moment to look up at the potions master, the refined look that Lucius had come to associate with pity radiating off of Severus' entire being.

Rising stiffly to his feet as Severus took a step away from the moving chair, Lucius swallowed and calmly brushed down the front of his ruined robes with a refreshing touch of self respect that the wizard hadn't felt in quite some time. "I do believe that the night air will do us both some good," Lucius murmured once he was somewhat satisfied with his appearance, the wizard watching out of the corner of his eye as Severus pulled his robes tighter around himself and walked around to the other side of the desk. It had been quite a while since the last time Lucius had been able to have a moment alone with the potions master; The last time had to have been before their Lord had returned, nearly three years ago. Lucius hadn't entirely realized how much he missed Severus until he was directly in front of him, the struggle of keeping up with Voldemort's demands on top of regaining the Dark Lord's trust taking up most of his waking hours.

Pushing his hair behind his shoulders as he joined Severus in front of the desk, he tried to ease his racing heart with a final tug at his robes and held out his arm invitingly, not willing to ask for physical closeness but begging for it all the same. Severus eyed the arm for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching as he moved beside Lucius, before hesitantly wrapping his own arm around his friend's, a shock of warmth spreading through Lucius (followed only a moment later by a burning sensation as his Mark flared in anger) as he breathed out shakily and placed a heavy palm upon where their two elbows connected together. A moment later and they had both disappeared, the two wizards Apparating directly into the gardens outside the Manor as the bottle on Lucius' desk spun from the force of their combined magic.


	4. Confrontation (Pt.1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Draco Malfoy

"Well, well, well, Potter!" The sunlight reflecting through the stained glass window above the baths ignited the stone ground in shades of red, blue, orange, and green. Draco's footsteps echoed noisily as he trod carefully into the boy's lavatory, his attention never leaving the fourth year who was fumbling for his glasses as he sat naked in the large bath. From where he stood, Draco could make out something golden and shiny that Harry was trying desperately to hide underneath the wavering bubbles surrounding him. "I thought I'd find you here. It's not exactly a secret you've got no idea what that bloody egg even means," Draco snorted as Harry scrambled out of the pool, water splashing against the floor and soaking the Gryffindor's discarded shirt. 

The golden egg that Harry had retrieved from the dragon was the only thing keeping him from being completely exposed. "What do  _ you _ want?" Harry snapped as he inched over to his shirt, Draco half tempted to kick the cloth away as the Gryffindor's bruised hand closed around the wet piece of clothing, "I honestly don't have time for whatever rubbish you're about to start spouting, so if you could make whatever you've come to say quick-"

"-You got by that dragon on a freak accident,  _ Potter _ ," Draco snapped as Harry pulled his shirt over his head, the blond balling his hands into fists as the Gryffindor scowled at him, "There's no way you'll make it past the remaining challenges with that kind of luck. I've already put my money on it. "

"So I've heard."

"Which reminds me," Draco's expression darkened. He stepped forward, a beam of red light falling directly across his face and bathing his body in a crimson glow. Harry, seemingly noticing the tension that was growing thick in the air, bent down and placed his egg gently on the floor with a click, his other hand reaching for his underwear before standing back up. A tingle ran up Draco's spine as he advanced closer to the Gryffindor, his robes swishing as he unbuckled the strap that held the black material together and allowed the expensive fabric to fall to the floor.

He had  _ always _ wanted to get into a good, old fashioned muggle fist fight, but had never worked up the nerve to do so. Not for a reason one might assume, a reason such as Draco being afraid of violent physical contact and therefore resorting to the altogether more effective and efficient method of wand wielding whenever he got himself in trouble (which was often, as his father and godfather  _ loved _ to point out). No. The reason why it had taken him so long to engage in direct combat with another individual was that he had been  _ prohibited _ to by the whole ideology of Pure Blooded society itself. In short, he would  _ never _ hear the end of it from both his mother and father if he turned up in the infirmary with a broken nose and a fractured skull.

But just the chance of getting to boast to the other Slytherins that he had beat up the great Harry Potter was an opportunity he simply couldn't pass up. Sure, it was a little cheap since Harry hadn't been expecting him and he was unarmed as well. But that wouldn't matter in the long run. All that would matter was that Draco Malfoy was the victor and Harry  _ bloody _ Potter was the loser.  _ Finally _ . Hopefully his parents would understand and not become too displeased with him.

Draco began to unfasten his tie as Harry hiked his boxers up his legs, his brown eyes narrowing as Draco stepped ever closer. The green and silver tie dropped with a quiet splash to the ground and the blond wizard began to carefully roll up his white sleeves, making sure to keep the fabric unwrinkled as the shirt had been quite an expensive purchase. "Hiding behind our brand new Defense teacher the other day was a bit of a shoddy move," Draco snarled as Harry watched his movements carefully, the boys now only a few feet away from each other, "As was having him turn me into a damn ferret in front of the whole courtyard just because you're not smart enough to realize when you're about to get hexed!"

"Oh piss off!" Harry snapped as he bent over to grab his jeans, his eyes never leaving Draco as he inched ever closer, "If you hadn't been such an ass about that bloody bet you made with your father, I wouldn't have walked up to you in the first place!"

That was when Draco made his first swing, the blond wizard trying to keep his fist as clenched as possible as he connected with the side of Harry's jaw. The Gryffindor grunted and nearly fell over onto his side, his body illuminating in green light as he quickly jumped to his feet and pushed Draco roughly with both of his hands. The blond wizard spun backwards into one of the stall doors, his back aching with a foreign pain that spread through his whole body, and quickly pushed off of the stall, surging back towards Harry as he prepared to swing again. But Harry was too quick for him, the Gryffindor connecting his own fist into Draco's stomach as a gasp of pain erupted from Draco's lips.

Before he had a chance to recuperate, Harry swiftly shoved him sideways, the blond wizard tripping over his own feet before falling backwards into the foaming water next to them with a gasp. The water engulfed his lungs as he hit the fluid surface hard and Draco briefly panicked as he swallowed a mouthful of liquid. As his senses finally began to kick in and he pushed his clothed arms through the water, Draco resurfaced with a gasp, his platinum blond hair plastered to his head and his vision fogged up as he tried to determine where Harry was located. A flurry of movement caught his eye and, with the precision of a viper latching onto its prey, Draco grabbed the Gryffindor's ankle, ripping him off his feet and dragging him into the water.

A large splash emerged where Harry disappeared and Draco scrambled to get out of the water before he resurfaced, but a hand grasped his own leg and yanked him back in. A furious look flashed across Harry's face as he rose up from underneath the water, the Gryffindor launching his body at Draco with all his might as the blond wizard tried to slap him away. The two wizards collided and Draco felt his back touch the side of the bath as he was pushed backwards, a curse or two spewing from his lips as he tried to push away from the corner he was in. With a growl, the Gryffindor grabbed Draco's pale wrist and, using all of his upper body strength, shoved Draco back against the wall, the blond wizard kicking at Harry's legs as hard as he could as Harry winced in pain.

A cold feeling curled it's way into Draco's stomach as Harry grabbed his other wrist and, slamming it against the wall with a hiss from the blond, caged him perfectly beneath him, Draco feeling his back and stomach throb with pain as he tried feebly to escape the Gryffindor's hold. Well… there went all the glory Draco would have gotten if he had bested Harry Potter.

"Congratulations, Potter," Draco sneered sarcastically as he tried to shake his arms loose, Harry's brows furrowing together as he tightened his hold to the point where Draco's wrists were becoming numb, "I hope you're happy considering all you've done is given me a couple of scratches. Truly, you are just  _ amazing _ , aren't you?"

Silence, except for the sound of the disturbed water lapping against the side of the bath. The uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified and spread to the rest of his body as he tried to move again to no avail. A vague tinge of fear bounced unwelcomed into Draco's consciousness, the blond wizard struggling anew as his helplessness grew stronger. "Just so you know," Draco's voice began determined, but it wavered ever so slightly as he watched Harry's eyes drift to his lips, "Anything you do to me will only serve as evidence for the Ministry to charge against you…" He trailed off.

"Hm?" Harry hummed in the back of his throat as he squeezed Draco's wrists roughly, an odd sensation rippling through Draco's body as he frowned deeply. And then the Gryffindor moved closer, the scent of coffee and caramel nearly intoxicating Draco as Harry lowered his face so that he was a few mere inches away from connecting with the blond wizard. Droplets of water dripped from Harry's shaggy, brunet hair onto Draco's forehead, a subtle shake overtaking the blond wizard's body. A harsh breath landed stickily against Draco's skin as Harry muttered against his lips, "What was that?"

"I said  _ stop _ ." Draco really couldn't help the frantic tone that had invaded his voice, he really, really couldn't. Luckily for him, that tone, that cowardly, weakness that lingered like a dagger underneath the confident demeanor that Draco usually adorned, was what broke the spell that had seemingly befallen Harry Potter. The Gryffindor blinked a few times, his eyes clouding with confusion, before letting go of Draco's wrists and sliding backwards, the blond wizard sitting up straight as anger bubbled up from deep within his core.

He watched as Harry climbed out of the pool, Draco pointedly ignoring the growing bulge between the Gryffindor's legs, and grabbed his jeans, swiftly tugging them on and picking up the golden egg which had been pushed over during their struggle. The wet clothing that Draco was wearing was beginning to feel very scratchy against his skin, but there was no way that Draco was moving until Harry was safely out of sight. After he tucked his wand safely into the waistband of his jeans, Harry began walking towards the exit, pinpricks of light dancing across his skin in a way that almost made him look angelic. "Don't try to follow me again, Malfoy," Harry called before stepping out of the lavatory and slamming the door behind him, a very heavy, very scared feeling followed by a flurry of anger settling into Draco's chest as he leaned against the side of the pool with a sigh.

  
Draco then punched his fist into the side of the pool with a yell, the fluorescent lights twinkling above him as he rose gingerly from the bath and scooped up his school robes in one hand. His knuckles bleed as he quickly put on the robes and clasped them back into place, his body shaking from the cold (yes, definitely the cold) as he began the slow journey back to the Slytherin common room. Draco should've just used magic. Muggle fights truly were  _ not worth _ the effort.


	5. Spiced Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Lucius Malfoy

There were potions littered  _ everywhere _ in Severus Snape's chambers, a fact that Lucius Malfoy had unceremoniously found out once he had stepped out of the flume and nearly broke a small vial under his boot. Looking down to carefully avoid the bottles carelessly placed about the room (though Lucius knew the potions master too well to believe that he would just leave dangerous liquids lying about for no apparent reason), the wizard walked quietly over to the cramped mirror stuffed into the cobwebbed corner of Severus' room and examined himself in it's shiny depths, twisting his head left and right with a small frown before muttering his approval under his breath. A moment later and his cloak, a dark grey color with silver claspings near his throat, was being removed and folded neatly upon a cushioned chair that sat near the fireplace he had just climbed out of, Lucius not even bothering to watch his magical work as he untied the ribbon that held his long hair out from his face with one hand.

Long, nearly white locks fell neatly upon his shoulders as the ribbon joined the cloak on the seat. Lucius pulled his wand out of the wooden pole that had disguised it cleverly as a cane and, pointing the black object lazily towards the fireplace, ignited a small spark with no more than a small flick of his wrist and a mumbled incantation. Satisfied with how quickly the flames coiled and jumped around themselves, bringing both light and warmth to the dismal environment in which Severus inhabited, Lucius returned his wand to the inside of his cane and placed the piece of wood on top of his cloak for safe keeping. 

He then began his search for a bottle of spiced wine, his manicured hands picking up different potions and reading the labels in hopes of finding the one he was looking for, before stumbling upon it quite by accident as he bent down beside the dresser that was right next to the chamber's entrance. The wizard smirked as he pulled the wine from its hiding place and, standing straight once more, reached for the two crystal glasses that sat neatly atop the dresser. The glasses had been a gift from close to six years ago; The mugs that Severus had been using before Lucius had so  _ graciously _ bestowed upon him the crystalline flutes had been absolutely  _ dreadful _ . And Lucius Malfoy did not settle for anything else than perfection.

As he gently poured the ruby liquid into both of the expensive glasses, the wizard toed off both of his boots, the lacings coming undone without a single touch, and watched as his boots floated towards the fireplace, settling down neatly at a distance from the flames that would not endanger the leather trappings. With one final look towards the door, the sounds of Slytherin students returning from dinner bouncing excitedly into Severus' chambers from the hall, Lucius glided around the bottles that the potions master  _ really should _ pick up (only kicking over one in his mild haste) and climbed onto the bed, leaning back on one arm as he took a small sip from the spiced wine that was in his hand. The fastenings on the front of his emerald green robes lazily unclipped themselves with slight snapping noises, the robes falling seductively onto Lucius' pale shoulders as the wizard turned his body and brought his legs upon the bed as well. His hair fell to one side of his head as he posed, exposing the vulnerability of his pale neck towards the door as he began to wait.

To say that Lucius Malfoy was a patient wizard would be quite the lie. As a man that came from a family of wealthy, pure blooded wizards that had always put the priority of their own comfort above all else, patience was not something Lucius had learned as a child. Whatever he wanted was what he received, all thanks to the proud position his father, the late Abraxas Malfoy, had procured at the Ministry of Magic and kept for over forty years. All throughout his childhood, the ideology of infinite wealth and unexpendable need was fed and grown until Lucius was nearly as spoiled as his own son was, which was, regretfully, partially his fault (though he wouldn't take all the blame; It was Narcissa that dolted over the boy's every whim and gifted him with whatever he desired). 

It wasn't until Lucius was accepted into Hogwarts did patience finally begin to play a role in his life. It took patience to become acquaintances with all the Slytherin and Ravenclaw first years and then use their unique talents to pass all his classes with flying colors (even Slughorn's bloody Potions class, which was the most difficult class in the entire curriculum). It took patience to become the best Keeper that had ever been on the Slytherin Quidditch team. It took patience to juggle his obligations to the Malfoy family name, his obligations to his schoolwork and extracurricular activities, and, of course, his obligations to the Dark Lord as he demanded the recruitment of several Slytherin pure blooded students. 

What had taken the most patience, however, was gaining the trust and companionship of one Severus Snape. Lucius hadn't entirely paid the boy any mind until his seventh year, once he had become the Slytherin prefect and had made it a point to know each of the 'snakes' in his care at the very least an informal level. But, as he slowly learned the young wizard's mannerisms by exchanging small talk (that wasn't always openly received), Lucius found himself drawn to Severus in a way that was most intriguing and dangerous. Perhaps it was because of how different the two wizards appeared on the outside, with Severus being crase and introverted with greasy raven hair and a small, lanky body whereas Luicus was haughty and extroverted with sleek blond locks and a somewhat muscular build from playing Quidditch. Or maybe it was because of how similar they were on the  _ inside _ , both wizards wanting something greater than the purpose that had originally been bestowed upon them by their families. 

Either way, it had truly taken all of Lucius' adolescent patience to not curse the young wizard whenever he proved to not be the pushover that everyone thought that Severus was. The boy had been so stubborn and distrustful no matter what Lucius would do or say to prove otherwise. In a way, that was what kept Lucius interested in the third year; It was his sheer will to not listen to a word the prefect would say that kept Lucius from pursuing easier prey. It would all be the sweeter of a kill once that bridge of trust had been erected. That and the Dark Lord had wanted to meet Severus after all the wonderful things Lucius had not so subtly gushed about whenever the Dark Lord was in his presence.

The hallway chatter was dying down as Lucius stretched his back with a deep sigh, taking care to make sure he didn't spill a single drop of the spiced wine onto the linen sheets underneath him. He briefly contemplated over whether or not he should go visit Draco in the hospital wing, just to make sure that his son was being properly taken cared of after the bludgeoning incident during his last Quidditch game, before a knowing smile lifted to the corners of his lips as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed into the room from down the hallway. Making sure he looked tastefully debauched by gazing down at his strewn body with a calculated gleam within his grey eyes, Lucius made sure that the lip of the flute in his hand was against his mouth as the door to the potion master's chambers slammed open.

Even though he tried to hide it behind a familiar facade of disgust, Lucius could tell that Severus was pleased to see the Lord of Malfoy Manor lying sensuously across his bedsheets. "Pardon my intrusion," Lucius began slowly, his lips curling into a charming smile as the potions master closed the door behind him with a flick of his wand and warded it for good measure, "I do believe my flume sent me to the wrong location."

"Do forgive me if I find that very hard to believe," Severus replied smoothly, not playing along with Lucius' game as he placed his wand on the mantelpiece above the fireplace and removed the top layer of his robes with precise fingers. Instead of joining Lucius upon the bed once he had finished his task, as Lucius had assumed he would, the potions master plucked his own flute of spiced wine off of the dresser in the flourish and took a contemplative sip while watching the blond wizard over the rim of the glass. A faint frown graced Lucius' features as he cocked his head and watched as Severus drank his wine with the ease of a cat that was toying with the mouse it had just caught. A curl of impatience flared in Lucius' stomach, but was quickly tampered down before he could say anything that may deter the potions master. "As the nature of your visit was not made aware before your arrival," Severus drawled with a swirl of his glass, his dark eyes staying firmly fixed upon Lucius as the blond wizard sat up, "I do believe you are going to have to tell me why you are here. I haven't a clue what it is that you could possibly want at this late an hour…"

His sentence tapered off as Lucius rose fluidly from the bed, his drained glass dangling precariously in between his fingertips before he maneuvered it around the stiff body of Severus Snape and placed the flute with a tink onto the dresser. One hand came up behind the potions master and wrapped possessively around his waist, Severus sipping from his glass with a perfected glower, as Lucius whispered darkly, "Why Severus. You must know by now that I don't need a  _ motive _ to come visit you in your dungeon every once and awhile-"

"And yet, you  _ do _ want something." Severus drained the remainder of his glass and placed it next to Lucius', his black robes fluttering around him as he stepped around his companion and sat down on his bed. Lucius watched with an amused smirk as Severus slowly began to unbutton the many buttons that adorned the front of his under robes. "I've never known you were one for simply staring,  _ Lord Malfoy _ ," Severus hissed, his onyx eyes glittering hungrily with passion even as his mouth remained firmly in a line.

"I'm not, I'm afraid."

And with that, Lucius deftly stepped forward, his green robes slipping even more down his smooth shoulders, and pushed the potions master backwards, climbing swiftly on top of Severus and seizing his mouth in a seering kiss. His hand grabbed a hunk of the potion master's lank hair and held him in place as he explored the inside of Severus' mouth (it was always such a pleasant experience), a feeling of dominance and control seizing Lucius in the chest as he growled contently against Severus' lips.

By Salazar, sometimes being patient did have it's merits.


	6. Homesickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Draco Malfoy

The first few weeks of Draco's first year of Hogwarts were undeniably difficult. Not academically, of course; The wizard had been told since a very young age that he was much smarter than most other wizarding boys his age and repeatedly spoken words often brought about real life results. Draco's problems were simply caused by yearning; The yearning to be home in Malfoy Manor, a place which seemed cold and inhospitable on the outside but radiated warmth and saccharine to those fortunate enough to make it inside. 

Draco missed the many rooms and multiple levels that were contained within the Manor, the secret paths that were behind the kitchen pantries and the echo of the main hall when he walked through in his fanciest shoes lingering tauntingly at the forefront of his memory. When Draco tried to sleep on his lumpy mattress in the Slytherin common room, the smell of sage and the disembodied voice of his mother singing him a traditional lullaby would soothe him to sleep at night. The hustle and bustle of the house elves carefully cleaning the Manor from top to bottom at his father's request was similar to the scuffles that occurred whenever he was trying to make his way to class through the throngs of students, but it wasn't the same. Draco did miss those scrawny little nitwits in all honesty and that was something he thought he would  _ never _ say about those annoying house elves.

But most of all (and probably most shocking to the young wizard), Draco found that he somewhat missed the weight that bared down onto his shoulders whenever he was in the presence of his parents. He was so used to making sure that his hair looked presentable, that his robes were wrinkle free, that his smile was genuine enough to even fool Lucius himself, a man that prided himself on his deceitful charm. As soon as Draco had kissed his mother goodbye and stepped onto the train on Platform 9 ¾, he felt immediately relieved and flustered as he stumbled into a seat. Without his parents' strict protocols and overbearing lessons, Draco almost felt… lost. Almost as if he had no  _ clue _ what he was supposed to do now that he didn't have to worry about practically everything.

It was right around the three week mark when Draco wrote home for the first time, his handwriting turning into messy scrawlings as he tried to recount what had happened over his first few weeks at Hogwarts as quickly as he could. He talked about how he had been accepted into Slytherin, how he had done on his first major quiz in Transfiguration (He had gotten a B+, which was acceptable in his opinion), how he had snubbed that idiot Gryffindor, Harry Potter, when he had stolen Longbottom's remembrall, and how he missed both of his parents dearly (which was something Narcissa would surely want to hear).

Mail day arrived and so did Lucius' and Narcissa's responses, each in their own respective envelopes and in their own distinctive writing. Draco stuffed down the saddened feeling of seeing  _ two _ envelopes instead of just one as he untied the papers from the leg of the Eurasian eagle owl, jerking his hand out of the way with a snicker as Crabbe reached across a plate stacked with sweet buns and tried to grab the parchments from his hand.

Draco started with his mother's letter, the envelope unfolding easily in his hands as he read over the spiraling calligraphy as best as he could (it was a running joke in the Malfoy family that Narcissa's handwriting closely resembled the handwriting of one that had drunk too much giggle water; His mother did not find this amusing in the slightest). Narcissa spent much of her letter gushing over how much she missed Draco, mentioning every other sentence how the manor felt so lonely without him in it, and then spent the other half expressing her disappointment over how Draco had had to deal with the infuriating 'Boy Who Lived' in nearly all his classes. The end of her letter wasn't marked with her signature as Draco had expected; Narcissa had put instead, _ Write every month, my little dragon! Remember that I love you very much and cannot wait for your return in December! _ , and that left Draco buzzing with happiness and just a tinge of homesickness.

Draco was a little more worried about opening his father's envelope, his handwriting very crisp and very legible on the aged paper as Draco folded it open. That was a good sign. Sometimes Draco received letters from his father that were written messily and that didn't appear to have been written with much thought, a common phenomenon that happened far too often for Draco's liking. As he read the page slowly, his worries began to melt away. Lucius started by congratulating him for making it into Slytherin House, his words praising Draco and telling him that he had known that Draco was going to become a Slytherin because of how much the young wizard reminded him of himself.

Lucius continued by expressing his mild annoyance at Draco's quiz grade, which Draco had known was going to come from one of his parents, and then stated that if Draco ever needed assistance with dealing with the Potter Boy he was to write his father immediately and Lucius would take care of the problem. His father's letter ended formally with a simple,  _ I enjoy receiving these letters from you, Draco. Please keep me informed about what kinds of mischief you get yourself into. Regards, _ but Draco felt satisfied nonetheless. It wasn't often his father supported him as keenly as he was right now, so it felt nice to be in the good graces of the man he respected above all others.

Even with these letters, Draco still felt unimaginably lonely and confused. He had friends, Crabbe and Goyle being the closest, and had the respect of his classmates, he had his name to thank for that. But all the same, the young wizard still had trouble sleeping in a bed that wasn't his in a manor that was far, far away from everyone he loved under the watchful eye of teachers that he didn't trust in the slightest. Well, he didn't trust  _ most  _ of his professors. His Godfather just happened to be the exception to that rule.

From the first day that Draco had attended potions class and had then watched as Severus Snape completely humiliated Harry Potter in front of the whole class, Draco had known he could rely on his Godfather if he ever needed assistance in something he couldn't achieve on his own. Or, if the need arose, when Draco needed someone to speak to about how much he missed his home. It had been somewhat of a shock to find out that Severus was a professor at Hogwarts that first day, though Draco was sure his father had to have informed him about this particular arrangement prior to him going to school. Lucius and Severus were quite close after all, a fact that had not escaped the young wizard's notice whenever his Godfather came to the manor for tea when Narcissa was out with her friends and Draco himself was supposed to be fast asleep in his bed. 

After the shock of seeing someone that Draco considered family on Hogwarts grounds began to fade, the young wizard slowly began to feel the tiniest bit at ease with his new surroundings, comfortable with the fact that he  _ did _ have a reminder of home in the visceral form of his Godfather (that he could visit as many times as he pleased). Stability was what Draco craved and that was what he received, the consistent letters that (most of the time) lifted the young wizard's spirits and the new friends he was making in his classes keeping him too occupied to even begin to worry about missing home. Even Potter distracted him in a roundabout sort of way. 

By the time a month had passed in Draco Malfoy's first year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had nearly forgotten about the silly problems he had begun the school year with.


	7. Pledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Narcissa Black Malfoy

The moldy dock thumped methodically under Narcissa's carefully placed footfalls, her petite nose scrunching up in disgust as she made her way slowly to the front of the boathouse. Her wand was drawn in front of her, a curse dangling from her lips in preparation for any student or professor that she crossed paths with. Overhead, the sound of Apparating Death Eaters returning to their Dark Master urged her to retreat back to the dark forest, but instead she crept farther down, down into the belly of the decrepit boathouse. Screams from Death Eaters and students alike filled Narcissa's ears and she silently prayed that her son was still alive somewhere within the blasted school that he had attended for the past seven years. She wasn't sure what she would do if she found her little dragon dead among the rubble of the once proud Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

For the life of her, Narcissa couldn't understand why she was risking the wrath of her Lord in order to check on a wizard she was supposed to hate with all of her being. It wasn't a secret, after all, that Lucius and Severus were having an affair behind her back; Practically all the noble pure blooded families knew about it and would always subtly comment about it whenever she would appear alone at any elegant party. In some ways, the return of the Dark Lord was a happy thing, with Lucius too busy doing their Lord's bidding to indulge in one of his  _ many  _ guilty pleasures (Oh yes. There had been multiple witches and wizards that had fallen under the skillful charm of the Lord of Malfoy Manor since they had been married). The Dark Lord served perfectly as a tool that would slowly draw her husband away from his  _ hobbies _ , since the tasks that their Lord dealt out to his closest of followers were neither pleasant nor quick.

But she had witnessed firsthand just how much pressure their Lord had placed upon Lucius, the repercussions in the form of his waning physical and mental well being becoming increasingly disturbing for the Lady of Malfoy Manor. It was in the height of this vicious cycle that her husband disappeared for several weeks, both wife and son walking on broken glass as they awaited news of Lucius' return or, even worse, the dreadful news that he had been killed or captured by an Auror. He had returned eventually, covered in bruises and his hair gathered in clumps around his bleeding face. Narcissa briefly embraced her husband, muttering some healing spells under her breath, before she was shoved away, a brief, 'Get off. I can handle this alone,' ripping from Lucius' lips as he stormed into his study and slammed the door behind him. Draco didn't even attempt a conversation with his father for over two weeks. 

And then, of course, the business with Azkaban occurred and her relationship with Draco nearly severed itself entirely when he disappeared within his own melancholy thoughts. The thought that her family was slowly disintegrating in front of her very eyes and that she couldn't prevent it was terrifying for Narcissa, for she had worked tirelessly, pulling the strings and placing the pieces when she needed to, to keep the falling house of Malfoy together for as long as possible. Now, with the world falling apart right in front of her eyes, Narcissa could see the silver lining of many things she had once thought were unacceptable, blinded by the words of power and control that Lucius and other pure blooded wizards and witches had poisoned her with. 

She now understood why Draco never truly wanted to become a Death Eater; She herself had never taken the Mark and yet she forced her sweet dragon using harsh words and sharp punishments to become the murderer he thought he was cursed to embrace. That was something she would  _ never _ be able to forgive herself for. Draco deserved so much more than to be chained to a life that brought more suffering than good. She should have  _ listened _ to what her wonderful son had been warning her about with his spontaneous reclusiveness and fearful nature. And now she may never get the chance to tell him how wrong she had been because of the immoral task that Lord Voldemort had demanded his followers complete, a task that may result in the death of the most important wizard in Narcissa's life (be it accidentally or not).

She even understood Lucius' persistence in remaining attached to the potions master while all the rest of his lovers fell to the side, though it was still difficult for the witch to accept her husband's actions and not see fault within herself. Lucius had never  _ truly _ been in love with her, as Narcissa had never felt romantic towards him, but he still respected her and sought her guidance whenever he was in a particularly tight bind with their Lord or even with some of the trickier cases within the Ministry. He certainly  _ tried _ to be a father to Draco; He  _ tried _ to be a part of a family that he had been forced to create in order to appease horrible, pure blooded traditions, just as Narcissa had been by her father. But it had still  _ hurt _ when the painful news of Lucius' affair fell upon her ears through the whisperings of her closest acquaintances. But she understood why Lucius felt like he  _ had to _ confide in an outsider (a half-blooded outsider, at that) about the innermost turmoils wrestling with his soul instead of consoling with his wife.

Severus Snape was misguided, but, deep down, Narcissa believed that he was a good man, someone who was rooted firmly in his beliefs and was non-negotiable when it came to changing them. She remembered back to when she had been at school with him, how he had buried himself in his studies and how the insults and jabs that James Potter had flung at him seemingly slid off of his back like oil gliding into the ocean. Come to think of it, Lucius must have been infatuated with Severus even in school, if all the times she had caught Lucius sneaking out of the third year dormitories were any indication. She wouldn't have been surprised; It had been Lucius that had brought Severus to meet their Lord for the first time as well. 

Narcissa wasn't exactly happy with the affair, but she was glad that it was the potions master that had caught Lucius' fancy and not someone else (like her sister, which was who she thought Lucius was seeing before Bellatrix got cast away to Azkaban). She liked Severus to a degree and his role in Draco's life had been nothing but positive, which was more than what Narcissa could say about herself. He had even taken part in an Unbreakable Vow on  _ her _ behalf. Of course Narcissa fancied the idea of having a loving husband and a perfect son as much as the next witch, but keeping Lucius sane through his relationship with Severus and making sure that Draco was cared for during this trying time was more important than whatever hopeless dream she had wished for her whole life.

Perhaps that was why she had agreed to check on Severus after Lucius had rushingly told her that the Dark Lord had requested the potion master's presence at the boathouse, his words broken and pleading even as his face was cold and distant. She was going to keep the fragmented pieces of whatever was left of Lucius Malfoy together and prevent anything else from slipping past her control. But it looked like her journey was in vain, for the wizard she had been looking for was dead at her feet, his throat slit and multiple snake bites covering his bloodied skin. A flurry of emotions fluttered across Narcissa's skin, all of them leading back to immense guilt as the Unforgivable Vow crossed her mind again, before she gingerly reached her hand out and closed his eyes, ducking her head for just a moment as she whispered her thanks and disappeared.

\---

  
When she Apparated into the dark forest, Narcissa thanked Salazar that their Lord had not yet arrived and began to search for Lucius, dreading having to tell her husband that Severus Snape had been murdered by the man ( _ monster _ ) that they had both so willingly followed. When she finally found him, his blond hair glowing eerily against the grey of the trees that surrounded the Death Eaters, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, causing the wizard to jump before he turned to look at her. Narcissa didn't have to say a single word; She simply bowed her head and leaned against Lucius' chest, his arms hesitantly wrapping around her as the meaning of her silence dawned upon his stoic expression. The raw emotion that began to shake his limbs as he dipped his face into the crook of her neck and made a quiet, sorrowful sound (that was so unlike the voice of the man she had married all those years ago) nearly had Narcissa in tears as well. It truly, truly hurt to see the ones she cared about the most suffer and not being able to do one thing to help them.


	8. Quidditch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Lucius Malfoy

"Where  _ were _ you today?" Lucius snapped as he slammed open the door to the third year dormitory, his silver eyes scanning the cluttered room until they landed squarely upon his target. Down the hall, he could still hear the cheering of Slytherins celebrating the victory of yet another Quidditch match (all thanks to their  _ marvelous _ keeper and his brilliant captaining skills, Lucius might add). It had been the biggest game of the season and had turned into the most excitable as well, with the Slytherin team beating the Ravenclaws only by ten points along with snagging the golden snitch right before the Ravenclaws could get their claws on it. 

The victory had felt electrifying and Lucius had been extremely proud of how his team had performed, even though he had done  _ most _ of the heavy lifting. As such, he  _ should _ be celebrating with his teammates, going to Hogsmeade, perhaps ordering a pint or two of butterbeer to chase off the remaining adrenaline high he was feeling… He should NOT, however, be chasing after a pesky third year that had PROMISED he would attend the next Quidditch match and then fail to do so.

Lucius' eyes narrowed as Severus looked up briefly from the book he was so enthralled in, a look of boredom plastered across his sullen face before he returned his gaze to the book on his lap. Lucius scowled, the fear of creating worry lines crossing his mind briefly before it was readily replaced with anger, as he turned and slammed the heavy, wooden door behind him, not caring if anyone heard the loud bang down in the Slytherin common room. "Where was I meant to be?" Severus questioned lazily, his attention never leaving his book as Lucius began to unbuckle the padding that was strapped against his elbows and kneecaps, the blond wizard hoping that his annoyance was being made clear by how aggressively he was throwing the leather pieces against the wall.

"The Quidditch match," Lucius hissed as he struggled to undo one of the pads on his elbows. Merlin's beard, do these damn things have to be so tight? "I specifically asked you to come to the Quidditch match today."

"Perhaps I didn't wish to attend." The pad that had been vexing Lucius, now removed from his elbow, was hurled directly at Severus' head, the young wizard flinching away as the heavy object thumped against the wall next to his head. The look that the blond wizard received from Severus was positively venomous as he  _ finally  _ looked up from his book. "And maybe if you weren't such a bloody prat, I would have  _ wanted  _ to attend your stupid Quidditch match," Severus snarled as he placed his book beside him on the bed, the box springs squeaking underneath him as he shifted in place and glared angrily at the blond.

Lucius snorted as he pulled his green jersey over his head, his stomach showing for a moment as he tugged off the article of clothing and flung it against the wall alongside the rest of his gear. "That doesn't change the fact that you didn't listen to me," the blond responded haughty, his deft hands pushing the loose strands of his long hair out of his face and tying them tightly into place with a green piece of ribbon that matched the color of his discarded clothing.

"I don't have to listen to you if I don't want to, Lucius." Severus' words were cold as Lucius began to unbuckle the padding that had been concealed underneath his jersey.

Lucius snickered as he cast a smirk towards his prickly friend. It was all too easy to get him riled up; The third year was going to have to work on that if he ever wanted to do something…  _ productive _ with his life. "You do, actually," Lucius sneered as he pulled the clunky padding off his torso in one tug, exposing his pale stomach and the beginnings of his happy trail as he slid the leather chest piece to the floor as well. Oh yes.  _ Now _ he had Severus' attention. "You see,  _ dear Severus _ ," Lucius continued calmly, his voice deepening into a (hopefully) seductive tone as an eyebrow on his pointed friend's face rose dramatically. The blond floated forward, his gleaming eyes never turning away from Severus', and placed one hand on the scratchy fabric of Severus' bed. "I just happen to be the Headboy of Slytherin House," he walked his hand towards the third year, squeezing the boy's ankle before continuing up his leg, "And as such," His chest fell onto the bed next, his body slithering closer and closer to his friend until the blond was right in front of him. Crawling upright as he grasped Severus' shoulders roughly, the third year's deep eyes watching the blond's every move with undisclosed curiosity, Lucius sat down upon Severus' lap, making sure to roll his hips a few times before he leaned close to Severus' ear and whispered, "You have to listen to  _ every single syllable  _ I utter or face the unspeakable  _ consequences _ ."

A barking laugh escaped the third year's throat as Lucius pulled back, the blond wizard rolling his eyes as Severus shook his head and snapped, "Was that your attempt at being intimidating,  _ Lucy _ ?" The sound of the third year speaking Lucius'  _ ridiculous _ nickname made the blond wizard's blood boil. Leaning forward as his nails dug painfully into Lucius' arms, Severus whispered sardonically, his black eyes glinting with delight, "That was quite pathetic, I'm afraid. It's hard to take one seriously with all the-" He paused for one moment too long for Lucius' liking before finishing smugly, "All the rose scented perfume. It's bothersome, to say the least."

Salazar give him strength. Severus was being quite the nasty thing today and Lucius was  _ very  _ quickly running out of patience. "Nevertheless," Lucius snipped, his arms looping around Severus' neck tightly as he pressed his forehead against the third year's. This time, unlike the other times he had initiated  _ this _ , Severus looked up defiantly, not at all cowed by Lucius' greater height and build. Grinding down on the third year's lap  _ excruciatingly _ slowly, the blond desperate to get any kind of submission from his friend, Lucius growled in Severus' ear, "I do think I am owed an apology."

"Whatever for?" Being the nasty little bugger that he was, Severus kept his question innocent, his hands only just grazing the back of the blond wizard's bare skin as he smirked cruelly up at Lucius. He knew  _ exactly _ what the blond wizard wanted, if his glittering eyes, full of so much distrust and stubbornness, were any indication.

"For… Missing my match! You should have seen me out there today! I was bloody brilliant!" Lucius exclaimed, stopping his gyrating hip movements to push Severus all the way down onto the bed. He towered over his friend, the boy's face falling into something more fearsome as he pulled Lucius' hair free of it's tie with a sharp yank. The blond wizard cast a quick look at the giant book Severus had been reading as it hit lightly against his forearm. His scowl returned when he read the cover. "Did you miss  _ my Quidditch game _ because you were too busy reading Professor Slughorn's Potions Manual!?"

Severus narrowed his eyes as he spit out, "Unlike you, I actually have to study to pass my classes. It's not like some first year is going to do my homework for me if I asked them."

"I'm sure if you asked that mudblood, Evans, to do your work for you, she'd be more than happy to do so." Lucius' reply came out darker than he had intended, his hair curtaining both him and Severus' faces as the room descended into silence. Inwardly, the blond was kicking himself. He should have known better than to go picking at THAT insecurity right now, even though picking a fight about that stupid mudblood was always one of Lucius' favorite activities to indulge in with his young friend. It would be better in the long run for Severus to cut ties with that girl; She would give him nothing but heartbreak when she eventually went off with that prick James Potter like Lucius suspected she would. Plus, being friends with a dirty mudblood would do the third year absolutely no favors once he was in the company of the Dark Lord. 

Severus' face had scrunched up into a mixture of revulsion and fury, his arms shaking in Lucius' hands as he struggled to free himself from the blond's grip. "Don't ever call her that," Severus snarled as he twisted sharply, wrenching one arm free and nearly punching Lucius across the face before he was grabbed again.

"You've called her that yourself once," Lucius reminded gently as he leaned in close, his teeth grazing the underside of the third year's jaw as he raised both of Severus' arms above his head.

"Don't remind me of how horrible of a friend I am. I don't need that on top of everything else."

"You're not a horrible friend," Lucius said simply, his hands leaving Severus' arms as they drifted slowly downward and cupped the third year's face. With that, the blond wizard brought his lips to Severus', allowing the boy to take control of the kiss and explore his mouth as he moaned his encouragement. A tongue gracelessly tangoed with Lucius' as a callused hand grasped at his blond hair and tugged viciously, a sort of punishment, Lucius figured, for what he had said earlier.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Severus muttered bitterly into Lucius' ear, "That doesn't mean much coming from you." The blond wizard felt a sharp stab to the inside of his heart. This may have started as a game for Lucius Malfoy, but it had unwillingly evolved into something much deeper and scarier the more he actively pursued the friendship and love of Severus. Of course he was still going to have to convince the third year to join Lord Voldemort in his quest for muggle annihilation, but why oh why did he have to start  _ liking _ the cunning boy during that pursuit of allegiance. 

"I am  _ hurt, _ Severus," Lucius replied quickly with a quirked brow, masking his own disappointed feelings with his smooth words and charming smile, "I only mean what's best for you and I don't appreciate how you belittle my attempts at making your life less of a horrible, little comedy show."

Severus writhed underneath Lucius, pushing the blond wizard downwards by his shoulders as he hissed, "Can't you do something other than talk for once in your stupid life?"

Ah. "Of course I can," Lucius grinned as he placed one palm flat onto Severus' growing erection. The third year yelped in surprise at the stimulation before immediately beginning to fumble with the ties of his pants. The blond watched amusingly as Severus pushed down both his pants and his underclothing at the same time (after fumbling with the ties for several seconds), exposing his impressive dick in all it's glory right in front of Lucius' face. "Excited, aren't we?" Lucius drawled as he licked his lips, his eyes flickering between Severus, who was gazing down at the blond with an intense look on his face, and the prize right in front of him. Not giving the third year any time to respond, Lucius casually slid his mouth over the head of Severus' cock, keeping his jaw as slack as possible as he took in as much as he could before sliding back upwards. A shaky moan hurried from Severus' lips as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, Lucius' expression growing focused as he kissed and licked the underside of his friend's dick in order to appease the panting boy above him with his teasing touch.

It was interesting what infatuation made one do, especially when that lust could lead to very attractive prospects in the future. It was easy for Lucius to say that he was simply interested in Severus because he wanted to be the one to control the raven haired boy when no one else could, to say to the Dark Lord that he had been the one to seduce Severus into joining the ranks of the Death Eaters even though the third year could do practically  _ anything _ with his gift in potion brewing. But that wasn't the only reason why Lucius was so invested in his dear Severus… But he would rather spend an eternity under the Cruxiatious curse than admit what it was out loud.


	9. Apple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Draco Malfoy

"Psst! Potter!" When no response came from the Gryffindor table, Draco turned back around in his seat with a smirk, one of his freshly manicured claws extending towards the bowl of granny smiths sitting prettily at the center of the Slytherin table. Goyle snickered as he stole a glance backwards at Harry, Ron, and Hermione and then promptly shoved the remainder of his cheesecake down his gullet. "Apparently," Draco spoke loudly, not caring if Harry or any of the other Gryffindors should hear him, as he gripped the apple and pulled it towards him, "That fall must have made him retarded as well!"

On the blond wizard's other side, Crabbe took a large swig of his pumpkin juice, droplets of the orange juice running down all three of his chins, and replied haughty, "Probably got his brains scrambled and can't even remember who he bloody is!" The brunet then burped obnoxiously, the sound carrying all the way down the Slytherin table, and Draco quickly turned away from his companion with a noise of disgust and a light swipe of his hand, smacking Crabbe across the cheek in the process. The heir of the Malfoy bloodline would  _ not _ be defiled by a simpleton that did not know basic wizarding etiquette. Following a whimper and a pout, Crabbe rubbed at his sore cheek and muttered as he bit into the remainder of a turkey leg, "What was that for? I didn't do anything!"

With a roll of his eyes, Draco took a dignified bite of his apple, chomping down on the sour fruit as he turned his head slightly and fixed his silver eyes upon the Boy Who Lived as the brunet ate with his housemates. The delightfully bitter taste of the apple lingered even as the blond swallowed, though Draco wasn't entirely sure if it was because of the fruit or if it was because he was so close to the bug eyed brunet sitting behind him. It was absolutely no secret that Draco  _ despised _ Harry Potter and his whole motley crew of arseholes; Weasley and his entire family were blood traitors, Granger was a mudblood, and Potter himself had been trouble to the Malfoy Family ever since the very moment Draco had met him in Year One. 

The incident with the Hypogriffin that had occurred only a few days prior had only cemented into Draco's mind just how much he bloody hated the Gryffindor; Why had that stupid animal listened to  _ Potter _ and not to  _ him _ ? Didn't it recognize power when it saw it? Thank Salazar that that dreadful beast was going to be put down (his father had been  _ livid  _ when Draco had written him about his injuries and had assured his son that Buckbeak would be taken care off very, very shortly). It was too bad, really, that Draco couldn't put Potter out of his misery as well.

"Wouldn't that be a sight, though? Watching Potter wander around Hogwarts like he was outta his bloody mind?" Goyle chimed in, his beady eyes gleaming with hate as he grabbed another slice of cheesecake with his fork and knife. Draco resisted the urge to shift away as Goyle's arm brushed the side of his goblet, nearly tipping all of his liquid onto the blond wizard's lap in the process. His robes were new and Draco wouldn't be dirtying them on the second occasion he had worn them.

Nodding his head stiffly as he deftly pushed the iron cup away from the edge of the table, Draco took another bite of his apple, letting the juice run out of the corners of his mouth for a moment before using his napkin to dab the mess away. "He already stomps around like an ogre as it is," Draco sniffed once he had swallowed his bite, giving Crabbe a subtle glare out of the corner of his eye as he demonstrated how to talk without showing vile pieces of food in his mouth for the fat idiot. It truly wasn't that difficult to behave well mannered; Draco had been brought to etiquette lessons since before he could walk. And, obviously, someone hadn't been taught how to eat without looking like a filthy pig as a child. But, given that the blond was talking about the heir of the _Crabbe_ Family, he really shouldn't have been surprised. _They are… exceptionally_ _slow_ , as his father had put it, _Perfect for the dirty work that no one else wishes to do, but completely useless when thinking and problem solving are required to complete a task._

Smiling wickedly to himself as he turned to glare at Harry's red and gold covered body with slitted eyes, Draco brushed his newly cut hair out of his eyes and exchanged a glance with Goyle, his hand tightening around his apple until the juice began to squeeze out from between his fingers and drip, drip, drip methodically onto the cobbled ground. Goyle, his hunched body matching the nasty expression on his face, stared at where the blond had turned his gaze to and, a waspish noise escaping his lips as he looked between the apple and Harry's exposed neck, looked back to the perfectly innocent face of Draco Malfoy with a smug look. 

With a raised brow and the tiniest of conspiratorial giggles, Draco wound his arm back and chucked his half eaten apple at the Boy Who Lived. It wasn't that hard of a throw, as Harry was only sitting a few seats away, but the impact was forceful enough to smash the green fruit into several few pieces and send them all into different directions. It was good that all the upper body strength that the blond had gained due playing Quidditch was finally starting to pay off! One of the larger hunks even got caught in Granger's abnormally large hairdo as all the bits of the apple went flying; That was quite glorious to behold and neither of Draco's companions could hold back the round of guffaws that soared from their throats as the remainder of the apple landed soundlessly on the ground. The blond, though one hand was covering his mouth cheekily, released his own hearty laugh as the targeted Gryffindor jumped nearly ten feet in the air (dragging Weasley up with him since their arms had been linked) as what could only be described as a shriek jumped from the Gryffindor's lips. That little noise almost brought the blond to tears as he turned back to Goyle and squeezed his arm, laughter shaking his entire body from head to foot and nearly causing him to fall off of the bench he was sitting on. 

"Merlin's beard!" Draco wheezed after a moment, letting go of Goyle's arm and sharing a grin with Crabbe (who was still shoving copious amounts of mashed potatoes into his grimy mouth) before turning to look at the Gryffindor he had just publicly humiliated. Harry was staring right at him, his thin lips pressed into a thin line and his freakishly large glasses glinting in the candlelight, and so were Weasley and Granger, their faces contorted in displeasure as they stared at the Slytherin table. "Potter," Draco said the name mildly, almost as if he had not just thrown food at the Gryffindor's back. The blond paused for a moment, picking his words carefully inside of his head, before asking as kindly as he could muster, "Is it true that you fainted?" Goyle mimicked Harry falling off of his broom during the last Gryffindor Quidditch game once Draco had spoken, the blond's weak facade of sincerity falling quickly as Draco snickered at his friend's antics. "We-well," Draco managed to hiss as he slowly calmed himself down, Harry's face subtly twitching near his mouth as the blond continued with a harsh, "What happened, Potter? One little Dementor scared you and you just  _ fell _ off your bloody broomstick?"

" _ Oh piss off, Malfoy _ ," Weasley interrupted with a snarl, his arm turning a solemn Harry away from the taunting Slytherins as Draco cackled from his seat, the blond grabbing another apple from the center of the table and biting into it triumphantly. Casting one final look at the disgraced Gryffindor, Draco was moderately surprised to see Harry staring right back at him and… was very surprised to see the look of genuine  _ hurt _ that seemed to shine out from the depths of Harry's chocolate brown eyes. Draco pursed his lips together and bit into his apple once again, the loud crunching noise distracting him momentarily before, his nose wrinkling up in confusion, realizing that it wasn't  _ hurt _ that was glowing from within Harry's eyes… it was a look of  _ betrayal _ .

Draco bit his tongue as he turned away, throwing himself into whatever asinine conversation Crabbe and Goyle were having about the potions exam they had all taken earlier that day. A faint feeling of unease flitted anxiously at the back of the blond's mind, but Draco wasn't going to worry about it now. He had four years of Hogwarts ahead of him.

Draco was positive that he would be able to figure out whatever it was that Harry Potter was hiding from him in that amount of time.


	10. Textbooks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Narcissa Black Malfoy

Narcissa could hear them arguing all the way on the other side of the bookstore, even though several wizarding (and muggleborn) families were meandering through the crowded aisles in search of required schooling textbooks. The witch had been looking for a rather elusive copy of the Potion's Manual Draco would need for his fifth year at Hogwarts when her son's and her husband's bickering had reached her ears. Tilting her head inconspicuously towards the noise as she frowned down at the leather book in her hand, Narcissa took a small step to her right to allow a wizard to walk around her and then quickly turned away from the musty scrolls she had been dully staring at. Setting off at a clipped pace, Narcissa carefully weaved her way in between the shelves upon shelves of old, moldy books, her heels clicking against the wooden floor and a strand of her blonde hair coming loose from the braid that curled down her back. The closer she drew to the front of the store, the louder the heated disagreement between Lucius and Draco became.

"-furthermore, this is entirely unacceptable behavior. What will it take to make you understand the importance of our current situation, Draco?"

"What do you want from me? Do you want me to back off and let you deal with-"

" _ Draco _ ."

" _ Let me finish! _ This is exactly what I am talking about! You never let me speak!"

"Perhaps when you stop whining about every last bloody problem that you have, you will then be able to handle an adult conversation."

Pausing her march right behind a rather wide and rather tall bookshelf, Narcissa clutched her son's textbook to her chest and simply listened to the nasty words both of the Malfoy men were conjuring on the opposite side of the shelf. It wasn't entirely a surprise that Narcissa had found them arguing as crudely as they were; The atmosphere at Malfoy Manor had been tense at best since the return of the Dark Lord and loud disagreements were slowly becoming the favored pastime for the members of the Malfoy bloodline. But shouting at each other in public was only going to damage the cold masks that the Malfoy family wore outside the security of their home. The Malfoys had the reputation to uphold afterall; The distinctive traits of being cunning, charming, and ruthless were not to be thrown away over a ridiculous quarrel. Not only would it lower their status among other pure blooded elites, it was also quite risky, given Lucius' near brush with a sentence to Azkaban when the Dark Lord had fallen fifteen years prior. The Ministry, as much as Cornelius liked to deny it, was growing suspicious about the potential return of "You-Know-Who." It would only be a matter of time before Aurors began to raid pure blooded households once again. In times like these, it was best to keep a low profile.

On top of that, Narcissa had developed the distinct impression that both Draco and Lucius were hiding things from her; For Lucius, her suspicion had cropped up only just recently, after the blond wizard had disappeared in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye for the fourth time that month. Errands from their Lord were to be expected, as that was the duty of a Death Eater, but the witch had a hard time imagining why the Dark Lord could possibly require Lucius' presence every week. She had questioned Lucius about it once, while they had been drinking glass after glass of fire whiskey on one of the more chilled summer nights on the Malfoy Estate. The witch hadn't received any helpful insight from her husband, even in his inebriated state, but she hadn't really been expecting to. Lucius was a brilliant manipulator. Anything that he would have told her could have been the truth or could have just as easily been a lie. 

And Draco… something had been gnawing on his thoughts since the end of his fourth year. Narcissa had never asked him about it, assuming that his mood swings were partially due to the Dark Lord's return and partially due to the death of the Diggery boy during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The witch had thought that her little dragon would be back to normal by the time summer had passed and it was time to return to Hogwarts; It hadn't. In fact, Draco's moods had gotten worse, the young wizard becoming more brittle with his words and more confrontational with his parents. He had even lashed out towards one of the house elves two days ago, the creature squealing and lying helplessly on the floor as Draco hexed it over and over again before Narcissa had barged in and put a stop to it. Never before had the witch seen a look of pure rage and confusion cross her son's face when she had asked him why he had been muttering the name of the Potter boy under his breath after each hex. The blonde understood her son's qualms with the Boy Who Lived, but, all the same, her little dragon had to make sure he didn't lash out during his stay at Hogwarts. It would only give the Aurors more reason to pay a visit to the Malfoy Estate if the Ministry caught wind of Draco being suspended or, Merlin's beard,  _ expelled _ .

Shifting slightly as her feet began to ache in her pointy boots, Narcissa smiled thinly at a passing student (Hufflepuff, no doubt. Look at the smile they had returned) and resolved to stay hidden behind her bookcase a little bit longer, wanting to see what Lucius and Draco grumbled about when she wasn't around to scold them. It happened more often than one would think and neither of them, especially Lucius, really paid her chastisings any mind, even if they seemed guilty when the witch caught them.

"-I want."

"I can't change tradition, I'm afraid."

"Why not?"

"Because every member of this household has an obligation to keep. You are not going to walk away from your responsibility simply because your feelings lay elsewhere."

"I don't think you can make me marry her. Just like you can't make me become… l-like you! Maybe I want something different! Maybe I want to have the freedom to make my own choices!"

"That is a school boy's answer and you know it. No amount of  _ begging _ will change my answer and  _ that is that _ ."

"Father, would you  _ just listen! _ "

"Enough with your foolishness! It's time to return to the real world."

"This is utterly unfair."

Silence.

"I thought you would understand, considering your own engagement with Mother and your own  _ personal _ indulgenc-"

" _ Enough _ ."

Noting the lull in her family's bickering, Narcissa tucked Draco's textbook under her arm, straightened her posture, and rounded the corner of the bookshelf, keeping her face carefully blank as she descended upon the shadowy forms of Draco and Lucius. Both of the men's luminescent blond hair gleamed malevolently as beams of mid afternoon sunshine glowed through the large window that stood behind them, the dark robes and suits that they had both worn contrasting the ethereal look of their faces. Draco had a snarl plastered across his lips, his silver eyes zipping all over the store as if that would distract him from whatever was racing through his mind. Lucius, his cane gripped tightly in his left hand, had an unreadable expression engraved across his face that Narcissa immediately recognized as cleverly disguised frustration. 

They both seemed to hear the witch approach them, Narcissa narrowing her eyes at the two wizards as they each had a look of surprise cross their pale faces. The witch then exchanged a glance with her husband, silently prompting him to not utter another word, before turning to her son and muttering as she handed him the textbook she had been carrying, "Go take this to the clerk, Draco. I do believe you have said  _ quite _ enough ridiculousness for today."

Betrayal glinted like fireflies in the grey depths of Draco's eyes as he stiffly extended his arm and, grasping the leather bound book, muttered, "Mother, I merely-"

"I heard," Narcissa interrupted coldly, a lithe hand rising to Lucius' shoulder and squeezing the tight muscle lightly before she hissed, "Your Father is right. You are no longer a child. It is  _ time _ to accept your familial duties." Dismissing her son with a wave of her hand, Narcissa locked eyes with Lucius, a smug smirk barely lifting the corners of his mouth, before she finished her statement with a harsh, "No son of mine will be neglecting his commitments simply because his heart is not in it.  _ You are a Malfoy, Draco _ . Start behaving like one."

"...Yes, Mother." Draco's usually proud voice cracked with emotion as he stormed away from his parents, both Narcissa and Lucius watching their son approach the owner of the bookstore and fumble with the velvet pouch of money that lay inconspicuously in his pocket. 

The witch could hear her husband chuckling beside her, one of his hands gently pushing the piece of blonde hair that had escaped her braid back into place. "I didn't think you would take my side," Lucius remarked as Narcissa gave her husband a curious look, the blond wizard smiling sincerely down at her as he shifted his cane from one hand to the other.

"He had many valid points, Lucius," Narcissa replied faintly as she linked her arm with the wizard's. 

Lucius sighed, his eyes drifting to Draco before he whispered almost silently into the stuffy, overheated air of the bookshop, "I am aware."

As the two Malfoy's made their way over to the exit, she peeked at her little dragon out of the corner of her eye and nearly stopped in tracks when she saw how distraught he looked. Reducing their child nearly to tears was not what mothers were supposed to do, was it? But… it was what Malfoys did… And that was what kept her from regretting what she had said to Draco. Her words were true enough… Her son was to become a Death Eater and was to marry a pure blood once he came of age. There is nothing her little dragon can do to prevent it. That was the pure blood philosophy. That was the Malfoy way.


	11. Flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Draco Malfoy

To be dragged out of Slughorn's blasted party by the collar of his robes was beyond frustrating; To be dragged out of said party by the hands of his Godfather was even worse. Draco gave a meek struggle as the large wooden door Slughorn's office was slammed open, his hands bunching close at his sides as he was practically dragged down the empty hallway by Professor Snape. "Let… go…" Draco hissed once they were a good distance away and the blond was positive that no one attending the fancy soiree he had just been forcibly removed from could hear the two Slytherins, "This is utterly barbaric! I demand you-"

Before the venomous words were able to fully spew from Draco's lips, Professor Snape pulled him roughly behind a large, stone pillar that lined the side of the hall, the blond too shocked by the sudden change in direction that he didn't catch his Godfather's sour look until a hand was covering his mouth. "You are an imbecile, Draco," Professor Snape drawled as he removed his hand from the blond wizard's lips and placed his palms on either side of Draco's shoulders, effectively holding him still before continuing bitingly, "You should know better than to look for the means of Dumbledore's end in the company of all of your peers."

A surge of anger ripped through Draco's chest as he tried to push away his Godfather, only to discover that he was trapped underneath the wizard's intimidating stare (the same one he used on misbehaving students, if Draco remembered correctly). The potions master had _no_ idea what kind of pressure Draco was under right now; He had _absolutely no right_ to dictate what Draco was or was not going to do to accomplish his task. The Dark Lord had ordered _Draco_ , not Severus bloody Snape, to kill Albus Dumbledore. His eyes flashing with fury, Draco tried to shove Professor Snape again, using the full force of his sixteen year old body in order to do so, only to be slammed back into the wall. The blond gasped as stars swam in his vision and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. " _Get_ _off of me!_ " Draco gasped as he wiped at one of his eyes with the sleeve of his robes, his face flushed with embarrassment at how little he had actually been able to move his Godfather. Had he really been that weak all along or was he growing softer now that more and more of his time was spent thinking about killing Dumbledore and…… instead of practicing his Defense magic.

"Listen to me, Draco," Professor Snape grumbled harshly, shaking the blond as Draco sniffled, pulling sharply out of his spiraling train of thought, and stuck his chin out defiantly. The potions master scowled as he gripped Draco's shoulder far too tightly and hissed, "It is  _ obvious _ that you are not doing well this year. You may be able to pretend that your ill mood and short temper are due to your father being deported to Azkaban while in the company of your classmates-" Draco's heart seized. He had nearly forgotten that his father had been taken away four months ago. He wondered briefly if Lucius would have been given the order to depose of Dumbledore if he hadn't been caught performing illegal curses within the Department of Mysteries. 

"-But to those who are being cautious about the wellbeings of their students, given the nature of our Lord's return, you are raising quite a few flags of suspicion. You have quit playing Quidditch-"

There wasn't enough time for Draco to complete his school work, fulfill his obligations as a Death Eater, practice less than acceptable magical curses in his dormitory, and attend Quidditch practice. It didn't help that most of the time his thoughts were scattered, worrying about nonsense that was barely even important (like his Transfiguration Exams). He could barely get a cohesive idea out of his head and into his study sheets without getting distracted by daydreams about red and gold kisses or nightmares filled with green bursts of magic and screaming children.

"-All of your former friends claim that you have been more aloof this year than any other time they have known you-"

Again, there was no time for socialization when his family was depending upon him to complete a task that, frankly, the blond wizard wasn't even sure he would be able to complete. Just the thought of ending another person's life made Draco want to vomit; Whenever he would practice  _ THE _ spell, he would shiver for hours afterward, replaying in his mind the way that the mouse's eyes had quickly lost their light or how the ferret's legs still twitched even when he laid dead. The Mark always burned once he had practiced the killing curse a few times; He was beginning to hate that Mark with all his being.

"-And, perhaps the most damning piece of evidence, you are consistently cutting class and journeying to parts of the castle that students are not allowed to enter." Professor Snape's mouth pinched together into a thin line, the lines of his forehead growing all the deeper, as he jabbed a finger into Draco's sternum, the uncomfortable placement earning a grunt of pain from the blond wizard beneath him. "You cannot do this alone," Draco's Godfather stated lowly, poking the blond once more before pulling back and adjusting the sleeves of his ebony robes with shaky fingers, "You are an inexperienced child who doesn't understand the importance of the task our Lord has graciously gifted you."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek as he glared peevishly at Professor Snape. Oh, he  _ definitely _ understood how important completing his Lord's bidding was; It wasn't like his bloody mother reminded him in every single discreet letter he received from her. Everyone he had remained close to at school (namly Goyle and Blaise) were constantly whispering about how jealous they were of Draco and how they wished they could kill their bastard of a Headmaster themselves. They treated Draco as if he were a hero in the making, but…  _ the blond didn't want to become a hero for the Dark Lord and his legions _ . Oh, how often he had wished that he had never taken that Dark Mark, that his  _ father _ had never gotten his family involved in such an evil business when he had received his own Mark at Draco's age. The blond had sworn he would  _ never  _ end up like Lucius, cold, cunning, brutal, and manipulative to the point where Draco really couldn't trust him; Now  _ that awful _ reality was occurring right in front of the blond wizard's eyes and there was  _ nothing _ Draco could do to stop it.

The blond wizard's face twisted into disgust as he spat in his Godfather's face, "I'm not an idiot! I do understand what I have to do! And I can DO IT ALONE! I don't NEED your help!" Gestering his head towards the entrance to Slughorn's office, Draco exclaimed, "I was looking for something in there and I nearly had found it before that oaf Flitch found me first!"

"Ah yes. Poisoning the Headmaster. How inconspicuous," Professor Snape responded dryly, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering lantern light that was the only means of illuminating his face other than with the moonlight itself. Draco huffed, his arms falling to his sides as the ache in his Mark began to aggravate him immensely. It had seemed like a good plan when the blond wizard had conceived it; It won't involve him performing the killing curse directly at Dumbledore, at least. "I suggest you create and execute a different plan," the potions master continued slowly, "For if you are to  _ fail _ in relieving the Headmaster from his duties, I must take up the task myself and the Dark Lord does  _ not _ take failure kindly in the slightest."

"Why must you eliminate Dumbledore if I can't?" Now Draco was genuinely confused. Of course the blond wizard had known that if he were to back out of his obligation, the Dark Lord would Crucio him into oblivion or, even worse, kill him mercilessly in front of his mother and friends. But why would the task then fall to his Godfather if he failed? Wouldn't Narcissa be the one to do the deed since she is directly related to Draco?

For a moment, a blank expression adorned Professor Snape's face as he gazed at the wall beside the blond wizard's head, the hand holding Draco's shoulder squeezing the muscle gently as he seemed to ponder his answer for a long while. "I made an Unbreakable Vow with your mother," the potions master replied after his bout of silence, a frown flitting across his weathered features before smoothing back into the normal disgruntled expression he wore so effortlessly. A flare of indignation rose in Draco's throat, a retort balancing precariously on his lips, before his Godfather continued, "I promised I would complete the task our Lord has given you if you can not complete yourself."

"You think I'm weak then?" Draco asked curtly, his hand closing around Professor Snape's and wrenching it neatly off of his shoulder, "Otherwise you and Mother would have never made that sort of agreement." Snorting through his nose as he took a step to the side, the blond wizard brushed a few strands of his platinum hair out of his eyes and answered his own question by snapping, "It doesn't matter if you or Mother or Father or the whole legion of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters think I can't do it! I WILL complete our Lord's wishes even if it kills me!" He wasn't going to allow his Godfather to hear the notes of fear creeping into the confidence of his exclamation, but, given the unimpressed nature of the potion master's body language, Draco knew he must be able to see right through his facade.

"That is precisely what we don't want to happen," Professor Snape grumbled as he stepped away from Draco, his arms folding nicely in front of his chest as his eyes flitted down the hallway, "Better be on your way back to the Slytherin common room. Creeping around the school corridors at night will do nothing for your reputation." With that, the potions master turned his back, midnight black robes fluttering about him like a flock of ravens, and strode away, the orange light of the lanterns above Draco's head barely hiding the crumbling of the wizard's haughty exterior now that his Godfather had turned his back.

Draco's fingertips tips brushed the outline of his Mark under his suit jacket and white collared shirt. He inhaled sharply as the pain from that awful design rocketed up his arm and into the rest of his body. How, oh Salazar, was he going to be able to do this?


	12. Judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Narcissa Black Malfoy

Never before had Narcissa Malfoy seen her husband more petrified than the day he was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss for his coercion with the Dark Lord. The court room had been completely packed with witches and wizards from all over the British Isles, all of them eager to witness the trial of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, a man that none had suspected to be in league with one the greatest threats to wizards and muggles in their time. This was all planned, of course; Lucius had kept the facade of an upstanding member of the Ministry of Magic for many years by giving money to organizations that required it and by always siding with whatever the oaf Cornelius Fudge would say when dark matters would arise in court. Even after Voldemort had been defeated the first time and Lucius was charged with crimes against the wizarding and muggle worlds, all that he had to say was that he was under the impression of the imperious curse and his charges were dropped in less than an hour.

But Narcissa knew that there was absolutely no way that her clever husband would be able to slip his way out of this predicament; The Minister had found him in quite a compromising position with a wand that stated that the last spell it's master had performed was the Killing Curse. That had been the final nail on the coffin and off he had been hauled to Azkaban along with a few of the other Death Eaters that had accompanied him to ambush the Potter Boy. Narcissa, thankfully, hadn't been one of them, choosing instead to stay with Draco as he recovered from the Mark that he had received on his forearm only a few days prior.

The Ministry had sent agents to escort both her and Draco to the courtrooms on the day of Lucius' trial, obviously paranoid that the two remaining members of the Malfoy family would attempt to free Lucius before the trial. It was demeaning having to walk into the Ministry with a group of guards surrounding them, but Narcissa had kept her head high and her expression neutral as she and Draco were led to their seats at the back of the courtroom.

It had been an agonizingly slow trial, Cornelius asking the same questions over and over again as Lucius gave increasingly convoluted answers with a voice that was much meeker than the booming tenor that had permeated the halls of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was only half paying attention through most of the insistent chatter, one of her hands bunched tightly in her lap and her other clasping Draco's arm firmly in a form of silent reassurance. Her poor little dragon was practically quaking with either rage or immense sadness beside her; The witch couldn't quite be sure as Draco's face and body was composed except for the twitching occurring near his silver eyes and deep lines appearing on his forehead.

At one point, even the Lady of Malfoy Manor had been called to the stand, her breath somewhat hitching in her throat as she let go of Draco's arm and stood up in her seat. The prosecutors asked her the same questions as her husband and she gave just as vague of answers, her eyes catching Lucius' for just a moment as he stood sullenly in the cage in the center of the room. There was truly nothing she could say or do that would change the Ministry's mind and, even though he would never admit it aloud, Lucius knew that his sentence was permanent. 

And once the Dark Mark had been revealed on her husband's pale skin, the ink moving sinisterly across his arm like a parasite ready to jump to a new host, Narcissa knew it was time to leave. She didn't want to subjugate Draco to anymore of the nonsense that was going on around them and, on a more private note, she didn't want to watch the utter desecration of the man that she had grown to respect right before her very eyes. With an unwavering hand, Narcissa took her son's hand in her own, a confused and frightened expression overtaking Draco's sunken features as they Apparated away. Narcissa had to protect what remained of her family and she vowed to try her best to keep her son in a place of good health as they appeared in the center of the Ministry, Draco staggering a little as they landed and looking as though he might be sick. 

It didn't take long for the reporters to catch sight of them, Narcissa furrowing her brows as she led Draco through the swarming masses and towards one of the flumes as quickly as possible. "Why did you leave the trial early?" one of the infernal reporters (Narcissa thought she recognized her as Rita Skeeter) shouted towards the pair, Draco turning to look behind him as several cameras flashed violently at the pair.

Pushing Draco in front of her as she stepped into the flume herself, Narcissa mumbled to her son, "Do not answer them. It will only add fuel to whatever horrid stories that are going to be published later today." Draco only nodded, a pained gleam flashing in his eyes as the flames took them both back to Malfoy Manor, the boisterous atmosphere of the Ministry of Magic fading into the miserable silence that now resided over Narcissa's home.


	13. Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Lucius Malfoy

The pale moonlight seemed to halo around the raven feathered hair of Severus Snape as Lucius Apparated behind him, the blond slightly out of breath and clutching at a wound in his side as he tried to regulate his breathing. It had been difficult for Lucius to perform even the simplest of spells since the Dark Lord had "borrowed" his wand and then proceeded to break it within a matter of days, leaving the fallen wizard with nothing to channel his magic into. Thankfully he could still perform healing charms, as that was what Lucius had been gifted in since he had been a young child; He was  _ NOT _ in any way gifted in the Cruxiatious curse, as so many of his fellow Death Eaters believed to be true.

But charms only did so much good when one is trying to wage a war against an army of young witches and wizards, hence the giant gash that was now sliced into the side of his torso. It should have been an easy spell to block, but  _ everything _ was irritatingly difficult now that Lucius was… The blond bowed his head as he muttered a curse under his breath. Now wasn't the time for self pity. Lucius had been ordered by Lord Voldemort to find Severus Snape and inform him that their Lord was in need of his presence. Now, with the most stubborn, two faced,  _ brilliant _ wizard that Lucius had ever known standing only twenty feet away from him, Lucius wasn't entirely sure he wanted to repeat their Lord's message to his dearest and most trusted friend. The Lord of Malfoy Manor was no idiot; He had seen the evil lurking behind the Dark Lord's slippery tongue after he had recovered from the harsh slap that had nearly taken him off of his feet. 

Their Lord had plans for Severus… plans that the potions master would most likely not walk away from alive. Traitors, whether they were useful or not during their service to the Dark Lord, were punished for their transgressions and the time had come for Severus to pay for betraying their Lord's plans to that snake, Dumbledore. There had been a time when Lucius believed that no one except for himself knew about Severus' double cross. The blond had been the one to confront the potions master on one of the nights he journeyed to Severus' home in Spinner's End, pleasantly surprised to find that Severus had honestly explained his predicament after a few swigs of fire whiskey. But nothing stayed hidden from the Dark Lord for very long. Rumors spread quickly through the ranks of Voldemort's army, Bellatrix and few of the other Death Eaters that were close to their Lord perpetuating the snide comments the most. Severus, for all his cleverness, hadn't thought through his allegiance with Dumbledore very carefully. Now, with the old oaf dead as a doornail, there was absolutely  _ nothing _ stopping the Dark Lord from getting rid of the potions master. He had served his purpose and keeping him would only create a liability for the future. 

Severus Snape had to die… Only Lucius thought it wouldn't have been so soon… He thought he would have had a little more time to get used to the idea of never seeing the potions master again. The blond certainly hadn't thought that their Lord would dispose of Severus during their march on Hogwarts. Lucius needed more time… But there was no more time left to take. Lucius was sending Severus to his grave as soon as he parroted his Lord's orders and there was no doubt in his mind that the Dark Lord had intended that to be the case. As said before,  _ nothing _ stayed hidden from Lord Voldemort, no matter how hard one tried to conceal it. 

Swallowing the saliva that was building at the back of his throat, Lucius opened his eyes and tried to stand as straight as possible, his greasy hair falling flatly onto his thin shoulders as he began the walk towards Severus. The gash in his side burned with every step he took and it took all of Lucius' willpower to not cry out in pain as he lurched closer and closer to the demolished bridge that the potions master was standing in front of. The small flickerings of dying flames danced across the crumbling pieces of wood that had remained intact, the orange light reflecting calmly onto Severus' contemplative expression as the potions master stared quietly at the destroyed skeleton of what used to be the greatest wizarding academy in the world. Licking his chapped lips, Lucius, now only ten feet away from his friend ( _ lover _ ), called hoarsely, one hand cupping his mouth, "Severus!"

The potion master's midnight robes gusted behind him as he turned on his heel, his intense gaze morphing into one of concern as he saw Lucius slowly stumble his way towards him. "Lucius," Severus replied slowly, the moonlight igniting his black eyes and pulling untold emotions from deep within their depths. The potion master's wand was being held in both of his slender hands, the blond's gaze flicking to the wand as a brief flood of envy wrapped angrily around his subconscious. Lucius was never going to forgive himself for handing over his wand so  _ easily _ . Never, ever, ever. The snap that had rattled through his body when the Dark Lord had broken off the silver handle on his wand would undoubtedly haunt him to the end of his days. "You are injured," Severus' baritone pulled Lucius from his churning thoughts, the blond focusing away from the wand in Severus' hands and instead onto the subtle glints of concern twitching around the potion master's eyes.

"It's nothing," Lucius muttered stiffly, his stance becoming uneven as he finally stopped in front of Severus, a bitter taste filling his mouth as he whispered hallowly, "I bring news from our Lord, Severus. He…" A strange swell of emotion rose unexpectedly in Lucius' chest as he tried to push the Dark Lord's commands out of his throat. Feather light fingertips brushed against his right arm and the blond leaned into the touch almost by instinct. "The Dark Lord requires your presence at the docks. Immediately," Lucius finally completed after a moment, his thoughts feeling scattered as his Mark buzzed with delight.

A moment of silence fell over the two wizards as the weight of Lucius' words filled the crisp night air. "This… was to be expected," Severus eventually murmured, the blond wizard tentatively reaching forward (almost as if he were scared that the potions master would evaporate if he moved too fast) and placing his trembling hands upon Severus' shoulders in a manner that could be reminiscent of someone touching a very fragile object. 

A low sigh escaped the potion master's lips as Lucius glared at the burning bridge that beamed like a nightmare behind Severus' head. It wasn't fair. None of it was. "I thought there would be more time," Lucius hissed, his dirtied hands tightening around Severus' shoulders and pulling him forward ever so slightly. The blond knew that the rage lurking in his voice wasn't being contained very well after all the years he had been consciously quelling his emotions, but he couldn't help it. Forgive him if a tiny sliver of emotion was finally breaking through the impenetrable shield of charm and seduction that Lucius had begun crafting for himself the moment he had taken the Dark Mark on his forearm the night of his seventeen birthday.

Wrapping his arms slowly around Lucius' waist, his hands carefully avoiding the wound positively pulsating on his torso, Severus nodded his head and replied quietly, "As did I."

"Don't. Go." Desperation had now replaced the rage that had been punctuating Lucius' voice. A sick realization was beginning to dawn on the blond as he held Severus' robes even tighter, the potions master squeezing his waist tighter as a response. Lucius had been the one to convince Severus to become a Death Eater all those years ago; The honeyed words and promises of power had swept young Severus Snape right off of his feet and, at the time, Lucius had been extremely proud of himself for being able to convince such a stubborn wizard to join their Lord's glorious cause. "This is all my fault," Lucius breathed, Severus' eyebrows furrowing together as a beam of moonlight fell upon his tilted cheek.

"All of this is your doing?"

A scowl enveloped Lucius' features as he snapped, "If I hadn't convinced you to take that damn Mark-"

"I most likely would have taken it on my own," Severus interrupted, his serious tone contradicting the soothing motions his thumbs were applying to Lucius' lower back, "Don't pretend like I was a saint before we met, Lucius Malfoy. I do not wish to inflate your ego by saying you were the one to defile my innocence."

And with that, Severus leaned forward and closed his lips over Lucius', effectively cutting off any retort that may have flown hazardously from the mouth of the sharp tongued blond. With a quiet whimper, Lucius allowed himself to be swept into the kiss, his mouth sensuously moving in time with Severus' as his hands left the potion master's shoulders and wrapped around his neck instead. The rhythmic motion of allowing Severus' tongue to slowly caress his own was quite calming to Lucius, memories of a simpler time flooding to the front of his mind as Lucius pulled his tongue away and began to suckle on the potion master's lower lip. Silently the blond wizard pondered over whether or not Severus had initiated the kiss in order to relax him, using Lucius' affinity towards physical touch in order to help him forget about what was about to occur to said potions master. Knowing how sneaky and passionate Severus could be when he tried, Lucius was sure that was exactly what had prompted such a risque kiss at such an impromptu time.

All the same, there was a part of Lucius that knew that as soon as the kiss ended, as soon as the euphoria of the moment faded, Severus would have to Apparate to the Dark Lord and Lucius would never see him again. There was a part of Lucius that also knew that Severus would die not knowing how much the blond truly cared for him, Lucius' ego and pride preventing him from admitting such intimate sayings until it was far too late to say anything at all. 

As Severus finally pulled away and nudged Lucius' forehead with his own, his eyes curled tightly shut as he shakily exhaled his farewell, Lucius tried not to whisper those three dangerous words as Severus Snape disappeared forever. Instead, the Lord of Malfoy Manor silently allowed his tears to drip messily down his cheeks in the waning moonlight, darkness falling over Lucius' face and hardening his shattered features as he too Apparated away into the night.


	14. Confrontation (Pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Draco Malfoy

The silence on the abandoned train could be cut crisply with a knife, the two wizards each holding their wands mere centimeters away from each other's faces. Draco's scowl deepened as he tightened his hold on his wand, Harry looking just as furious behind the sheen of his large glasses. "Listening in on a private conversation, _Potter_ ," Draco spat as he shifted forward onto his left foot, a variety of nasty hexes and even a few curses flitting through the wizard's mind. He had known that Harry had been listening to him talking about Hogwarts with Blaise as soon as his trunk had shifted above his head. And it wasn't hard to guess _why_ Harry had been listening either; The Boy Who Lived was still _angry_ that his stupid Godfather had been murdered by Bellatrix and was looking to seek revenge through hurting Draco. He had just been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. 

It was lucky that Draco was quick to draw his wand, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to stupify the Gryffindor before he was able to attack the blond wizard himself or, even worse, escape the train with all the carefully subtle information that Draco had told his friend. Potter wasn't clueless, after all; He was already suspicious and if he had managed to piece together _any part_ of what Draco had alluded to with Blaise… it was more than likely that he would be punished _severely_ … if not killed. Which was why there was no way Harry Potter was leaving this train without the blond wizard making absolutely one hundred percent sure that he wouldn't go blabbing about Draco's plan to those stupid, half witted friends of his. And if that meant dueling with the Gryffindor and forcibly knocking those memories out of him, then so be it.

"I have no idea what you're on about," Harry snarked dryly, the Gryffindor taking a step closer and pushing Draco farther down the aisle (and thusly closer to the exit). Draco tried to keep his wand hand steady as the Mark on his arm burned, thrilled with the notion that Draco was tempted to use a curse to defend himself. Using his non-wand hand to push up his glasses, Harry rolled his shoulder and snapped, "That really hurt, by the way. That kick to the face. Bet you couldn't resist taking a shot at me, could you?" The Gryffindor cocked his head to side, eying Draco as if he were analyzing just how strong the blond wizard was, before continuing bitterly, "Bet you wish that you could just use one of the unforgivable curses to end me, don't you?"

"Oh piss off, you prat!" Draco exclaimed furiously, rage slowly but surely twisting its way through his body, "You don't know ANYTHING about what I do or don't want to do right now, so stop putting words in my mouth!" Bravery seized Draco's chest and he stepped forward, the wood of Harry's wand jutting uncomfortably into his neck as the blond wizard swallowed. "This is about Sirius Black," Draco continued cruelly, his voice dropping close to a whisper as the Gryffindor's hand tightened around his wand. Draco forced a chuckle to leap haphazardly from his throat. "You're pathetic, Potter. Sirius Black wasn't even of your _blood_. I would have thought that since your disgusting parents were murdered in front of you as well, you would be less of a damn crybaby abo-"

"Sirius Black was _my only family_ ! He was all I had left!" Harry shouted before shoving Draco roughly backwards, the blond wizard stumbling and nearly losing his grip on his wand as he tried to stay focused on the threat in front of him. Harry, his hair plastered to his forehead and a bruise swelling on his cheek from where Draco had kicked him earlier, grabbed the blond wizard by the arm, hauling him up straight again, and exclaimed, "You have no _right_ to say what is and isn't a family given that your own bloody father is in _Azkaban_ for the murder and torture of _THOUSANDS_ of muggles and halfbloods!"

Struggling against the grip the Gryffindor had on his arm, Draco almost didn't register what Harry had said until the words hit him like a punch to the gut. Just thinking about Lucius made Draco's stomach coil into tight knots, the shame that came with having a Death Eater for a father (and secretly having to follow in his footsteps even if he didn't want to) eating away at his mind every single minute of every single day. "Don't speak about my father," Draco hissed as he went to slap Harry across the face, determined to get away from the Gryffindor and his sharp words even if his pride urged him to stay and fight.

The slap didn't connect, Harry easily deflecting it as he shoved Draco away again, his brown eyes glittering with hatred as he stared at the blond wizard with a fixed mouth. Falling slightly to his knees before scrambling up once again, Draco narrowed his eyes and watched as Harry turned away, the Gryffindor's wand falling slack beside him as he slowly made his way towards the opposite side of the railroad car. "I'm done with this conversation," Harry seethed through his teeth, his wand unlocking the slide door with a flick as he began to step through.

An odd feeling filled Draco's chest as he gritted his teeth and raised his wand, pointing it straight at Harry's back as the spell he wanted to conjure came to mind. He had to do it. He _had_ to. Potter could **not** know about the Dark Lord's demand; Couldn't know that Draco was meant to kill Albus Dumbledore by the end of his sixth year. That was non-negotiable. And yet, he was faltering, failing in spitting out the evil words he knew he needed to say to complete the curse. There seemed to be a weakness inside of Draco that he hadn't acknowledged in years and was only just now allowing himself to explore. Not that Harry had given him any reason to delve into such thoughts; He hadn't tried anything like what he almost did in the bathroom during their fourth year since the event had transpired. Plus, he had been so busy chasing after that stupid little Cho Chang last year to really pay Draco any mind. The blond wizard _had_ often wondered why he had been so irritable during his fifth year, though at the time he had just written it off as his growing annoyance towards his father. 

But no… it hadn't been that. Something much more confusing was prowling at the edges of Draco's consciousness. And now, with Harry Potter's back turned and wand lowered, with his shields gone and his body practically begging to be cursed, Draco found that he finally understood what that emotion was. He didn't like it, not in the slightest (he could practically feel the disappointment radiating off of his parent's non-existent bodies), but, all the same, he could not bring himself to mutter the words of the killing curse. He just _couldn't do it_ … Not yet, at least. Not until he could figure out what in Salazar's name he was going to do about the… crush he had developed rather by accident towards the Boy Who Lived. Once everything was sorted with Dumbledore (if Draco could muster up the courage to even begin thinking of killing the beloved headmaster), then Draco would deal with Harry Potter. For now, he would wait. Draco was patient. He could wait for as long as it took to get his thoughts sorted.

"Don't pretend like you wouldn't like to use one of those curses on me if you had the guts to." The words were spoken quietly, meant to provoke a reaction out of the retreating Gryffindor. It was Draco's final jab at Harry's defenses, trying to see if the Gryffindor would deflect his words peacefully or become heated and attack him as he had originally planned to (or, worse yet, agree with Draco's statement and completely change the blond wizard's perspective on the Gryffindor). 

Once Draco's words left his lips, Harry stopped and turned on his heel, half his body out the door and half his body in the train as he glowered at Draco. "You and I both know I wouldn't," Harry replied darkly, the blond wizard watching in amazement as the Gryffindor stuffed his wand into the band of his jeans almost as if he were trying to prove a point. Noticing that Harry's eyes seemed to be glued to the wand trembling in Draco's hand, Draco lowered his own wand sluggishly to his side, his palms sweating as he put his own wand into a hidden pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. The Gryffindor watched this silently, one hand clutching the sliding door, before his eyes met the blond wizard's in a gaze that nearly had Draco's heart combusting out of his chest. "And to be honest," Harry spoke in an almost tender voice, "I don't think you would either."

A tiny sliver of Draco's arrogant nature forced it's way out of the blond wizard's throat as he snapped almost defensively, "How do you know that, Potter? I could be a Death Eater for all you bloody well know." The Dark Mark stung in agreement and Draco tried his best not to writhe in pain.

"If you were truly a Death Eater, through and through," Harry mulled as he took another step out the sliding door, "You would have killed me just then. You wouldn't have hesitated," Harry gave Draco a look that made the blond wizard feel exposed (was he _really_ that obvious because, if so, he wasn't going to last the year without being discovered). Harry's expression softened and his body language became less defensive as he finished his statement, "And you _did._ "

And with that, Harry exited the train, leaving Draco to his confounding thoughts as the silence swirled around him like smoke trying to infect his lungs.


	15. Emeralds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Scorpius Malfoy

For the briefest of seconds, Scorpius Malfoy thought that the young boy carefully sliding into his train cubicle was none other than _the_ Harry Potter himself. That is, until common sense kicked in and Scorpius remembered that Harry Potter was completely grown up and couldn't _possibly_ be sitting down on the bench across from him because the Boy Who Lived was probably diligently working in the Ministry right now just like his own father was. Which left Scorpius with a number of questions, including _who_ exactly was the brunet in front of him and _why_ exactly he had chosen Scorpius' cubicle instead of any of the empty ones further along down the line.

Shifting out of his uncomfortable position beside the large window to his left, a pose that was beginning to make his legs go numb after being sat on for two and a half hours, Scorpius ran a hand nervously through his blond hair before shyly taking a glance at the boy, who had just flopped down onto the cushioned seat across from the blond with a huff. Nope. It definitely wasn't Harry Potter; There was not a scar to be seen on the brunet wizard's face. However, a few freckles could be seen dusting around the boy's stern nose and running around the collar of his white button up, the black dots so small that the blond wizard mistakenly thought they were ants crawling around the boy's neck before taking a second look. The boy's hair was dark and curly and his eyes were the color of newly shined emeralds sprinkled with gold flakes; The more that Scorpius stared at them, the more they seemed to swirl and change color, turning into the color of evergreen trees at one moment and then shifting into the color of seafoam the next.

Scorpius, fiddling with his hands in his lap, turned away from the enchanting wizard in front of him and chose to look back out the window, the mountainous scenery blasting past him as the Hogwarts Express steamed towards the newly rebuilt school. Scorpius' year was going to be one of the first to be able to return to the infamous institute of witchcraft and wizardry after what had happened only nineteen years prior. There had been classes in the salvageable parts of the building, as one could not simply allow an entire generation to potentially grow up not knowing how to use their magic. But now, with all the floors re-tiled, all the walls re-erected, and all the spectors returning to their homes within the castle, Hogwarts was finally ready to open its doors permanently and begin to teach witches and wizards of  _ all _ families how to properly cast spells and defend against curses.

It was all very exciting and, for the most part, Scorpius was happy to be leaving the dusty recluse of Malfoy Manor. Of course he would miss his parents, but he would not miss the cautiousness that seemed to lurk behind every word that they spoke. Scorpius was lucky he was even allowed to attend Hogwarts at all, considering all the horrible stories both his father and mother had been feeding him over the years concerning the castle. The blond didn't completely understand what was the cause of their fears, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the battle that had taken place on the school grounds with  _ You Know Who _ . His father would always get a glossy look in his grey eyes whenever he told Scorpius about it, his words short and strict as he brushed away Scorpius' questions in favor of talking about his experiences as quickly as possible. Those were the worst days in the Manor; It was like a feeling of despair would drop over the Malfoy house and infect all who stepped into it with immeasurable sadness. 

Scorpius sighed quietly into his palm, leaning his forehead against the cool glass in front of him. It was probably a good thing he was leaving his parents for a year; They needed the time to heal whatever wounds that had been left untouched since the fall of the Dark Lord.

"You're a Malfoy, aren't you?"

The voice, equal parts rich and waspish, startled Scorpius from his thoughts, the blond wizard jerking forward and hitting his head on the glass with a sharp smack. With a quiet whimper, Scorpius looked away from the lake that the train had been cruising over for a good ten minutes, his hand gently rubbing the bump that was now forming along the side of his head, and gave the boy a cautious look. There had been times in the past when Scorpius' name had gotten him into trouble; Magical folk tended to not like the fact that he was from a family of ex-Death Eaters and that the last two generations of wizarding men (himself, unfortunately, included) in House Malfoy had had  _ interests _ in the male form instead of in the female. The blond wizard shifted uncomfortably away from the window, one hand still cupping his aching head. What should Scorpius say? Should he lie? Claim to be someone else or claim to be from a different family? That wouldn't be easy; The platinum blond hair combed out his face basically confirmed that he was of the Malfoy bloodline. Maybe his brown eyes, so often called unnatural and freakish, could aid him in his lie, since every Malfoy had  _ always  _ had silver eyes that glinted like coins in the dark…

"Well?" The brunet wizard was relaxed in his seat, his arms loosely crossed over his chest and his eyes holding a lazily stare with Scorpius. A single curl fell out of it's gelled trap on the boy's head and Scorpius had the compulsive urge to push it back into place. "I'm guessing that by your silence that I'm right," the boy drawled as he sat up a little straighter, his eyes drifting out the window as his eyebrows furrowed together in thought.

Right. This is the part where Scorpius should say something. "Th-that… is correct," the blond stumbled over his words, his nails digging painfully into the meat of his palm. 

Grunting in response, the boy nodded his head and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as he muttered, "Thought so." 

"How did you know?" Scorpius found himself asking. It's not like he didn't know that his physical features very much resembled that of his father, with the pale skin, nearly white hair, and angular jaw, but perhaps it was something about his mannerisms that had alerted the brunet that he was a Malfoy. If so, Scorpius wanted to know what they were so that he could get rid of them; He didn't want anyone to think that he was a pompous prick on the first day of his first year at Hogwarts.

The boy snorted, his eyes only briefly glancing away from the rolling scenery to give Scorpius a queer look. "Fancy robes, blond hair, sitting all by yourself," the brunet listed dryly. A small smirk curved at the corners of his mouth as he stated factually, "It's pretty damn obvious, mate."

"Oh." Silence descended upon the cubicle as the train continued to rumble loudly under their feet. "What is your name, if I might be so inclined to ask?" Scorpius asked softly as he shifted a tiny bit forward, trying to gauge the conflicted emotions flicking across the boy's face. 

A stormy look settled atop the boy's features after a few moments, his voice taking on a frosty tone (that reminded Scorpius of the tone his father would use whenever he would do something naughty was a child) as he grumbled, "Albus."

"Albus… who?"

"What do you mean  **_who_ ** ?" The brunet  _ (Albus) _ sharply looked from the window, his brilliant eyes flashing with anger as his hand curled into a fist at his side. For a brief moment of panic, Scorpius thought that the brunet was contemplating over whether he should hit him or not. "You don't recognize me?" Albus hissed as he flopped backwards in his seat, hair and robes flying all around his body.

"... Should I?" Maybe Scorpius had met Albus at a party one time and was simply forgetting about him? "...Are you a pure blood? Have you ever been to one of my family's balls?"

An ugly laugh soared from Albus' throat, Scorpius considering covering his ears as the horrible noise buried its way inside his ears. " _ No _ ," Albus punctuated once he had reduced his belly laughs to quiet giggles. He stared meaningfully at the blond as he carefully scratched at the side of his neck. "Are you  _ serious _ ?" Albus mused as he lowered his hand and shifted closer to Scorpius, both of his feet laying flat on the clothed floor, "You  _ really  _ don't recognize me?"

Scorpius was at a loss for words. He truly didn't understand what the brunet wizard was talking about. "No," the blond replied, his mouth parted as he tried to think of something more educational to say.

"You of  _ ALL _ people should be able to tell," Albus snapped, his hands lacing together as he placed his forearms on his thighs and leaned even closer to Scorpius. Any closer and… Scorpius swallowed and shifted backwards. Albus didn't chase him. "I'll give you a hint: I'm not a parselmouth."

What did  _ that _ have to do with…

...

Ah. 

So Scorpius had been right to assume that this boy was of the Potter bloodline. "Your father's Harry Potter," Scorpius breathed, watching as Albus' expression became one of annoyance as he pushed himself backwards in his seat.

"Yep," Albus grunted, the blond wizard watching curiously as the brunet pulled his wand out of his robe pocket and began to bend it back and forth. Any more pressure on either side and the wand would most definitely snap in half. "Albus Severus Potter."

"I knew it," Scorpius said to Albus, a smile growing on his lips when he saw the brunet look away from his slightly splintering wand and give him an annoyed look.

"Then why did you make me waste my time giving you all those hints if you already bloody knew who I was?"

"Maybe I liked watching you struggle." His smile growing every second, Scorpius held out his hand invitingly and tried to ignore how his hand was shaking ever so slightly. "My name is Scorpius Malfoy and I am quite pleased to make your acquaintance."

For a few seconds, the blond wizard thought Albus wasn't going to take his hand, a worm of doubt burrowing into his mind as he watched the brunet's unreadable expression across from him. But those fears were quickly banished when Albus leaned forward and clamped his hand around Scorpius' firmly. Faint white scars littered the brunet's fingertips and a twinge of curiosity began to grow in the blond wizard's chest. Albus' mouth was twitching, trying to suppress the makings of a smile, as he grumbled, "You're a prat, Malfoy."

"I can't help it," Scorpius replied with a giggle, shaking their clasped hands up and down as Albus raised a brow at his antics, "It's in my blood, I suppose."


	16. Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Lucius Malfoy

"He's so small…" Lucius' voice trailed off as he gazed down at the wriggling blanket that was tucked securely in Narcissa's arms. Clutching his cane all the tighter as he used his free hand to unclip his cape, the wizard stepped forward, making sure to keep his shadow from falling onto the infant before him. Onto  _ his son _ . By Salazar, the words felt foreign even as he thought them to himself. "It's-" Lucius began again, his voice carrying an unusually soft tone as he dropped his expensive cloak to the floor (not entirely caring that it might be ruined) and hesitantly reached a hand forward, " _ He's _ quite remarkable."

"Indeed," Narcissa murmured as she tilted their child's cheek into Lucius' outstretched palm, her normally immaculate hair strewn haphazardly about her head and droplets of sweat still twinkling on her brow, "He is quite precious." The infant's cheek felt silky under the wizard's gentle touch, Lucius drawing in a breath sharply as his son mewled quietly in his sleep and pushed his cheek further into his father's outstretched palm. Narcissa hummed from her reclined position on the bed, pulling their child back when his soft noises began to grow louder. "Shhhhh," Narcissa whispered, her manicured finger stroking their son's cheek as he nudged against her breast, "It's alright, little one. Mother is here." Amazement ignited across Lucius' face as he pulled away and, retrieving the fallen cloak at his feet, placed his cane and cape on the cushioned chair next to both his and Narcissa's bed. It was odd seeing his wife so carefree and gentle when all that the wizard normally saw were forced smiles and flippant exchanges of dialogues. And for the first time in quite a long while, Lucius thought that his wife looked absolutely breathtaking. 

Once he had situated his belongs onto the chair, Lucius returned to Narcissa's side, one of his hands brushing a strand of his wife's hair behind her ear. She looked up at him with a thank you hidden deep within her expansive brown eyes. "I am so proud of you, love," Lucius muttered lightly, his gaze drifting down to his son as the wizard took a seat on the edge of the bed. The infant was curling into Narcissa's chest, shielding his tiny eyes from the grey light that was streaming in from the large windows across from him. Even though it had been storming for most of the day, the sunlight still managed to sneak in a ray of light every once and awhile. A weary smile tugged on Narcissa's lips as Lucius reached out a hand again and grasped his son's tiny hand, a brief feeling of euphoria filling his lungs as the child squeezed tightly in return. "You have done something that I can't even begin to fathom," Lucius breathed as a calm smile crossed his lips, "And I will never be able to say enough how grateful I am that you persevered through all odds."

"I didn't go to war, Lucius," Narcissa sniffed as she played with the tiny tuft of blond hair growing from the top of their son's head. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she smiled happily, the wizard shifting closer and placing a steady hand on Narcissa's thigh in an attempt to provide support for his wife. Lucius could understand why she was emotional; HE was feeling emotional, for Salazar's sake! For years and years, both the Malfoy and Black families had been pushing Narcissa and himself to have a child, hoping for a male heir above all else in order to ensure that the Malfoy name would continue into the next generation. And now, with their son safely tucked in his mother's arms, Lucius felt a great deal of pressure finally lift off of his shoulders. It was quite pleasing to finally know that his bloodline was secure, especially after all the suffering Abraxas had put him through when Narcissa had lost the first child in a miscarriage. A stuttered breath pulled the wizard from his thoughts and it was too late for him to look away from Narcissa as his own tears began to fall onto the rose scented bed sheets under him. As suspected, his wife chuckled at her husband's bleary eyes.

With a sharp inhale, Lucius forcibly placed a blank expression on his face and, removing his hand from his son's in order to wipe away any of the tear lines rushing down his face, said peevishly, "Don't you start giggling at me, Narcissa Malfoy. You are in no better shape yourself."

"Yes, well. That may have to do partially with the fact that I just gave birth,  _ dear _ ," his wife responded sarcastically, her words slightly watered down as she raised a brow towards the wizard, "You, however, have no such excuse I'm afraid." Though he tried to keep his composure, Lucius allowed a sharp bark of a laugh slip past his lips. Only his darling wife could turn a mild comment into a stinging insult with the fewest of words. Not that Lucius minded much at the moment; He was still quite overcome with the burning fact that  _ he was now a father _ . He was now responsible over the wellbeing and care of the helpless, little creature his wife had just given birth to nearly twenty minutes ago. And that was quite a terrifying proposition. "Would you like to hold him?" Narcissa asked quietly after a few moments, her hand cradling the infant's head as she held him towards the wizard sitting in front of her.

For the briefest of moments, Lucius froze, his mind playing through all the horrible outcomes that may arise if he should accidentally mishandle his son and hurt him in an irreversible manner. That would be worse than any punishment that could be dealt to the wizard; Even the time he had spent a hour and a half under the power of the Dark Lord's Cruxiatious curse would be more bearable then losing his child and  _ that _ particular punishment had left him moaning and unable to walk for hours once it was completed. Biting his tongue as he held his shaky arms forward, Lucius tried not to gasp as his son was placed directly into his arms, his wife rubbing the infant's head soothingly as he got settled before reclining backwards once more. Lucius could feel his heart pounding erratically in his chest as he held the infant close, his platinum hair falling in front of his face as he rocked his son slowly in his arms. "Merlin's beard," the wizard nearly choked on the words as he kissed the top of his son's head, delight engulfing his body as the smell of lavender and chamomile entered his lungs, "You are perfect, little one. Absolutely perfect."

"What do you wish to call him?" Lucius looked up from the infant's relaxed face and, his mouth pinching together in mild annoyance, watched as Narcissa moved forward again, her flimsy nightgown exposing her shoulder as she looked seriously at her husband. When no answer came, Lucius too busy listening to the rise and fall of his son's breaths to pay much attention to his wife's question, Narcissa hummed quietly and whispered, "How about Draco, Lucius?"

"Oh?"

"Quite an appropriate name for a son of the Malfoy bloodline, don't you think?"

Lucius smiled softly as he looked between his son and his wife, allowing Narcissa to grasp his forearm as she leaned forward to gaze upon…  _ Draco _ . Yes. That would do just nicely. "Our little dragon," Lucius cooed quietly as Narcissa rested her head upon his shoulder and sighed, quite tired after a long day of intense labor pain.


	17. Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Narcissa Black Malfoy

The sound of dead grass crunching underfoot somewhat soothed the racing mind of Narcissa Malfoy, the witch watching with a heavy heart as Harry Potter fell dead at the feet of Lord Voldemort. Sparks of green magic danced across Narcissa's hooded vision as she stepped closer to Lucius, his arm wrapping securely around her shoulders in order to ground the tired witch and to keep himself from shaking too much. Bellatrix, the mad loony that she was, snorted and spun in a circle as soon as the corpse of the Boy Who Lived dropped onto the ground with a thump, the raven haired witch mocking the final moments of Harry James Potter before hurrying over to where their Lord had been flung backwards from the force of his curse. The rest of the Death Eaters, several looking dumbfounded at the scene before them or averting their eyes away from the horrific scene and up into the starless sky, began to mutter and whisper to themselves, their eyes switching between looking at the corpse and looking at their Lord as he struggled to stand. 

Narcissa cocked her head to the side as the Dark Lord nearly  _ stumbled _ as he rose to his feet, his face pulled into a pained grimace as he strode forward. That was strange. Their Lord, even when severely injured, rarely showed any signs of weakness in front of his followers. It was all part of his show, Narcissa had discovered. The more powerful and generous he appeared, the more that unsuspecting witches and wizards would flock to him like flies to a piece of rotting meat. That was what had caught her attention, after all; All the pretty lies that had promised wealth and companionship and safety for Narcissa and Lucius and Draco had been what had enticed her into joining the little charade that their Lord had created without a second thought all those years ago. Thank Salazar that she had been able to escape the evil that came with having the Dark Mark branded upon one's forearm; It was a true shame that she couldn't save Lucius or Draco from that horrible fate as well… Though the latter had been partially her fault. 

Gods, if  _ only  _ Narcissa had insisted that Draco should wait to be initiated one more year instead of forcing him to take the Mark when he wasn't ready. Was there really an appropriate time to sign away one's soul for a seat at the table of pure evil's mortal incarnation?

"My Lord, are you alright?"

" _ I'm fine _ ."

"My-"

Bellatrix was roughly shoved away by the Dark Lord, his body quivering with either rage or fear, as he turned fluidly and faced his followers, his eyes scanning the crowd before resting on Narcissa. The witch instantly tensed, feeling a bolt of ice shoot through her body as Voldemort extended one arm and beckoned her forward. "Check on the boy, dearest Narcissa," the Dark Lord rattled as he lowered his hand and smiled unnervingly, his gaze averting from the shocked Narcissa and falling onto the sobbing half-giant as the oaf fell to his knees in despair. The pure emotion that was escaping Hagrid's throat caused Narcissa to inhale a shaky breath as she momentarily shrunk backwards against the body of her husband. She shouldn't feel any sort of sympathy towards the deceased Potter Boy. Showing signs of weakness now, with the Malfoy's quickly falling out of their Lord's favor after Lucius' capture in the Department of Mysteries and Draco's reluctance to kill Albus Dumbledore, would most definitely led to a horrible and gruesome end, just as what had befallen poor Severus.

"Of course, my Lord," Narcissa managed to say the words without her voice betraying her growing unease. Feeling Lucius squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, the cold hand providing just a touch of warmth through Narcissa's thick cloak, the witch stepped away from the rest of the Death Eaters, quickly walking towards the Potter Boy without a single glance over her shoulder. She could feel the eyes of their Lord's devoted followers on her back and a faint tinge of fear pierced her stomach. Sliding her wand carefully out of her sleeve and into her palm, Narcissa paused beside Harry and, casting one final look over her shoulder (locking eyes with Lord Voldemort unwittingly), bent down to get a good look at the corpse in front of her.

By Salazar. The emotion that quickly unfolded across the witch's body as she looked at Harry's unnaturally pale face and unusually still body could be described as nothing less than  _ horror _ . Potter had been a  _ boy _ ; He had been a  _ child _ . Their Lord, as benevolent and mighty he might claim to be, had just murdered a  _ teenage boy _ in  _ cold blood _ . Of course, Narcissa understood how much trouble the Boy Who Lived had caused the Dark Lord over the years, ranging from resisting the attempts at reading his mind and gaining crucial information about where the Order may be skulking about to causing his untimely demise at the age of one and a half through the power of Lily Potter's love. And, on a much more personally note, the witch could readily admit that Harry had caused her own family strife as well. If Potter had simply been killed in the Department of Mysteries, Lucius may have never gone to Azkaban and may never have destroyed the crumbling remains of the Malfoy household in process. Draco, perhaps, wouldn't have been given the impossible task of murdering the beloved headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and wouldn't have been thrust into such a depressive state since the beginning of his sixth year. 

Everything in Narcissa' s life would have been much easier if the Boy Who Lived had been disposed of prior to this night. But, now with the boy lying dead, Narcissa couldn't help but feel the beginnings of remorse form in her chest. He was _so, so_ _young_ … He had _much_ to give to this world and now he would never get the chance to prove it. All it had taken was the flick of a wand and the light that had burned within Harry Potter had been extinguished forever.

Leaning forward on her knees, blond hair falling messily out of her bun and into her face, Narcissa held her wand over Harry's peaceful face and whispered shallowly against the boy's cold cheek, "This better not be it, Potter. Find a way, as you did before. Do the impossible… please." The corpse in front of her reminded the witch too much of her own son. It was too easy for her to imagine that it was her little dragon that was lying in front of her, not the Potter Boy. It wasn't hard for her to imagine the Dark Lord killing Draco if he failed to complete another one of their Lord's asinine commands… As much as she loved her son, Narcissa knew that he wasn't strong enough to become the emotionless monster that Lord Voldemort desperately wanted him to be. Neither was Lucius, to be perfectly honest; The nine months in Azkaban and the loss of his wand had proven that to be true. Narcissa, her resolve growing stronger as she cast a hand over Harry's body, silently pledged to release her family from the clawed hands of their Lord the first chance she got. No more would she allow her family to suffer; No more would she watch the darkness consume the light that had once permeated the halls of Malfoy Manor. She would have to wait for the opportune time and once that moment arrived…

Narcissa's eyes flicked away from the ground as she caught a glimpse of a subtle movement… and then another. The witch, neary dropping her wand in her astonishment, watched as Harry's eyes fluttered once again, the boy's chest oh so carefully inhaling and exhaling to the sound of the rustling trees above him. A feeling of great joy soared through Narcissa's heart as she brushed a strand of Harry's brunet hair that lay against his forehead, a blank expression finding its way onto the witch's face as she contemplated her options. To tell Lord Voldemort about the impossibility of the Potter Boy still being alive could possibly elevate the Malfoy position in their Lord's army. But… that wasn't what Narcissa wanted. She didn't want a higher rank in Voldemort's army; She wanted to be  _ free  _ of the terrible hold that the Dark Lord held over her, her son, and her husband. To not inform Lord Voldemort of Harry's resurrection would absolutely lead to her execution once he had discovered the truth. However, the boy could prove a fine distraction once he awoke completely; Perhaps distraction enough to allow the Malfoy family to escape Voldemort once and for all…

"Well?" Narcissa straightened at the creeping tone of the Dark Lord's voice, the witch pinching her mouth together tightly and keeping her expression neutral as she looked over her shoulder. The deceivingly curious look that adorned Lord Voldemort's features, his arms spread apart as if he were about to embrace Narcissa in a hug, betrayed the predatorily glint that glowed intensely from within the black pits that could be mistaken for eyes. "Tell us the good news!" the Dark Lord continued cheerfully, a chorus of Death Eaters (Bellatrix being one of the loudest among them) chortling along in agreement as Narcissa stood up and brushed off the dirt that littered the front of her black dress.

Calmly turning in place, Narcissa, clutching her wand in between her lithe hands, bowed to the Dark Lord and murmured, "My Lord... Harry Potter is dead."

That boy better be a damn good distraction.


	18. Lily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Lucius Malfoy

With a splash, Lucius Apparated directly outside of Spinner's End, a trail of black magic swishing around his torso and wrists before fading into the foggy night air. Casting a quick look up and down the street, Lucius bustled forward and began to ascend the brick steps that led to the entrance of Severus' home, his expensive boots clicking ominously as he stood on the landing and knocked heavily against the wooden door in front of him. "Is this the home of Mrs. Lark?" Lucius asked hurriedly as he adjusted the black cloak that was soaked around his shivering shoulders. The silver clasps near his neck stung his exposed skin, the metal burning from the cold rain. "This is her son. I need to speak with her." 

This was the code that Lucius had created with Severus a long time ago to keep their meetings discrete from any passing witches, wizards, or muggles that might overhear from the sidewalk or from the alleyway. It would be a nightmare if someone, such as that pesky, air-headed Rita Skeeter, walked by and recognized the lofty hiss of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy as he called for Severus Tibirus Snape by  _ name _ or, even worse, overheard the blond whispering anything less than platonic through the thin doorway **_._ ** The Daily Prophet would have a bloody field day if they discovered  _ anything _ about Lucius' and Severus' meetings (the blond refused to call them anything else. Then it would become too painful; It would become too real). 

That was also the reason why Lucius simply Apparated into Spinner's End whenever he came to visit the potions master instead of outside the dreary establishment. While the blond could use coded messages all he pleased, it was quite difficult to hide the platinum hair that declared quite loudly exactly who he was. Polyjuice potion took too long to brew and taking the risk of permanently changing his hair color with a charm of some sort was not a good option. Using a hood was absolutely out of the question as well, as the Wizarding World now corresponded covering one's facial identity with a cloak or a hat with being in league with the Dark Lord. And Lucius certainly didn't need anymore enquires about where his loyalties lay… With his court date in three days, the less attention that the blond brought to himself, the better he could prove his innocence when he was questioned by the Minister. 

Tapping his foot against the ground as a disgruntled expression molded onto his features, Lucius huffed irritability, his long hair sticking somberly to his wet cheeks, before putting his cane in his right hand and beginning to rap the bottom of the stick against the door. "Hello? Is anyone in?" Lucius questioned as he hit the door especially hard, silently hoping that the potions master was brewing or using the loo and not ignoring the wizard practically banging at his door. Lowering his cane and raising a brow at the dent he had made at the bottom of the door, a flare of impatience slowly began to build in the blond's chest. Lucius didn't have the  _ time _ to wait for Severus to open the damn door for him. He had to speak with the potions master  _ now _ . 

Growling a curse under his breath, Lucius tried to Apparate into Spinner's End, black magic seeping from the strangely stagnant mark on his forearm and engulfing the aggravated wizard. But, much to his surprise, Lucius could not force himself into the building, no matter how hard he imagined the filled bookshelves of Severus' study or the large four poster bed in his cramped bedroom. Wards were shrouding the entire premise, leaving the blond in quite an unfortunate predicament as he reappeared outside and felt the rain beat against his uncovered head. "I don't believe it," Lucius breathed before he ripped his wand out of its hiding spot in his cane and, pointing the magical object at the lock before him, hissed, " _ Alohomora _ ."

The heavy lock that adorned the inside of Severus' front door slid dully out of place as Lucius completed the spell, the blond grabbing the doorknob and shoving open the door with a twist of his wrist. The overwhelming smell of alcohol hit the blond's nose as soon as he stepped through the door, Lucius nearly staggering backwards at the mere intensity of the smell. Shaking his head with a cough, the blond quickly closed the door behind him with a slam, allowing his cloak to unclasp itself from his shoulders and float over to the coat hanger that was directly across from the door. "Severus!" Lucius snapped as he slid his wand back into the recesses of his cane, his mind taking in the cluttered  _ atrocity _ that was Spinner's End.

After brushing off the sleeves of his robes and pushing his waterlogged hair over his shoulders, Lucius stalked into the house, his grey eyes darting into Severus' living room and landing upon the black lump that seemed to be lying unconscious on the patterned sofa under it. Several bottles of muggle booze lay strung about at the figure's feet, Lucius resisting the urge to pick up one of the glass bottles and smash it against Severus' head. "Have you been lying here this whole time?" Lucius questioned angrily as he stepped around the empty liquor bottles on the floor, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he towered over Severus and shoved his hand sharply into what he presumed to be the potion master's shoulder.

The lump stirred a miniscule amount at Lucius' prodding, the blond growing increasingly more annoyed as his hand found the greasy locks of Severus' hair and pulled his head backwards sharply. That got Severus' attention, the potion master's eyes shooting open as he swatted at the arm that was tugging at his hair. "Get off," Severus growled, his words slurring at the edges as he shifted into a more upright position. The blond wizard, still not fully convinced that Severus wouldn't fall right back into whatever comatose that he had been in prior to his arrival, released the black locks and pinched one of his host's shallow cheeks. The fine sheen of sweat that covered Severus' head made Lucius' upper lip curl in disgust as a hand forcibly knocked Lucius' intruding appendage away. "Fuckin' Hell, Lucius! I'm awake!" The potions master snarled as he fixed his robes, so that they weren't constricted around his chest.

Raising a brow to disguise his shock at hearing Severus utter such vulgar language, Lucius took a step back (nearly tripping over one of the empty bottles at the same time) and snipped, "I suppose this is what you were doing instead of going to the Gathering then." That was one of the reasons Lucius had come to see the potions master at such a dangerous time as this. Last night, there had been a Gathering of Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor, all of them there to discuss what was to become of the Separatist Union now that the Dark Lord had disappeared. All had been in attendance, even all the bloody Snatchers that their Lord had employed to strictly kidnap and torture muggle families. Everyone was there… except for Severus Snape. It was interesting to see how quickly the Death Eaters had turned on him, Bellatrix even claiming that Severus had been the one to kill Lord Voldemort and betray the location of his meeting hall. It was preposterous, as it had been one of the ill fated Potters that had killed their Lord, but lies, especially during times of fear and isolation, had a tendency to spread quickly among the ranks of Voldemort's army. It had been Lucius that had offered to track down the potions master so that Severus could prove that he was still loyal to their Lord. 

"What Gathering are you talking about?" Severus drawled as he slowly leaned forward and grabbed another one of the bottles that sat patiently on the floor. A strong urge to knock the bottle away from Severus' chapped lips swept through Lucius' body as he watched the potions master swallow a gulpful of the vile muggle liquid. It was unusual to see Severus so un-composed; The wizard was usually so careful with what he said and what he did. The intelligent glimmer that twinkled in his onyx eyes had diminished spectacularly, his robes were messy and didn't smell the cleanest, his pinched mouth that could be so damning and so rewarding looked as if it were permanently turned downward… Severus looked like he had been crying for a long time as well…

Placing his cane on one of the empty armchairs that sat opposite to the couch, Lucius turned back around and spoke in the quiet tone he reserved for when he was trying to get Draco to sleep at night, "It doesn't really matter now, does it?" Taking a slow step forward in order to not spook his inebriated friend, Lucius bent down in front of Severus and, trying to ignore the stench of the powerful alcohol, placed both his hands on the potion master's thighs in order to steady himself. "I have a favor to ask of you…," Lucius began slowly, one of his hands reaching for the bottle that was being firmly held in Severus' grip. Seemingly noticing the blond's subtle movements, Severus moved his bottle out of Lucius' reach before taking a long swig. A cringe rippled through the blond's body. "I…," it briefly crossed Lucius' mind that  _ maybe _ he shouldn't be talking about this while Severus was in such a distraught state, but if Lucius didn't ask him now he might never be able to, "I want you to become Draco's Godfather, Severus."

A breathy laugh floated out of the potions master's throat as he placed the booze on the couch beside him. He then stood up, Lucius falling backwards slightly as Severus breezed past him, his black robes dragging behind him, and walked down the hall, disappearing from view and leaving an astonished wizard sitting alone on the floor. Was that a no? How could he say  _ no _ ? Did he even understand how much of an  _ honor _ it was to be the Godfather of a  _ Pure Blooded child _ ? A flicker of fury curled in the blond's chest as he rose quickly to his feet and marched after the retreating potions master, his long hair flying behind him as he pushed open the door that led to Severus' study and stared at the back of his lover. Severus was leaning heavily on his desk and his shoulders were hunched awkwardly, almost if he were trying to shrink into himself and disappear. Even through the questions that were throwing themselves painfully against Lucius' skull, he could hear Severus faintly whimpering almost like he was in excruciating pain. 

But Lucius didn't have the time to  _ mother _ the potions master. As said before, he was working with borrowed time at the moment.

"Well?" Lucius eventually asked, an impatient note creeping into his voice as he let go of the door and walked into the expansive study. The book covered room looked no better than the rest of the house; By Salazar, how much had Severus actually  _ drunk _ ? Was he really that torn up over the loss of their Lord? To be honest, Lucius had been getting the impression that Severus was starting to become less committed to the cause; Continuously missing Gatherings and always dodging the blond's questions when he had returned were just some of the few signs that Lucius and, unfortunately, a few of the other Death Eaters had picked up on. That was why they had been so quick to believe Bellatrix's allegations and why it was so dangerous for Lucius to be here right now. If it came to light that Severus had indeed betrayed the Dark Lord, it wouldn't be only  _ him _ that would be punished by the remaining Death Eaters. The mere fact that Lucius hadn't immediately thought of treachery when discussing the potions master was enough for them to Crucio him, Narcissa, and even his infant son. And that was if they were feeling very generous.

Lucius' eyes flew to the large windows that lined the only vacant wall in Severus' study, searching for anyone that may be listening in on their private conversation. It was always better to check then to find out that their conversation was on the front page of the Daily Prophet. "I don't have all day to wait for your answer," Lucius continued waspishly, watching as Severus shed the top layer of his robes and then threw the heavy cloth onto the cushioned chair that was pushed out from under the desk.

Spinning on his heel and resting against the front of the oaken desk, Severus crossed his arms, Lucius noting the redness that now engulfed all of Severus' face, and snapped, "Do forgive me, Mister Malfoy, but I believe I have more pressing things to worry about then the wellbeing of a child I have no bloody connection to." There had been several cracks in the potions master's voice by the time that he had finished his statement.

"Severus," Lucius tried again, barely keeping his emotions reigned back as he walked smoothly up to the potions master and slotted himself in between Severus' legs. If Lucius wasn't going to be able to convince Severus with reason, the blond wizard would simply use a different strategy to get what he wanted. Reaching up and caressing the side of his crying friend's face with a pale hand, Lucius brushed away one of the tears that was gliding down Severus' cheek and whispered, "It would be such an honor if you were to become Draco's Godfather. My dear," Lucius rarely used pet names for the exact purpose of withering Severus' defenses when he needed to, "Please, please accept my offer. Come join the Malfoy Family. Draco can be as much your son as he is mine…" It was a tempting promise that Lucius knew would pull at Severus' feelings. Privately, the potions master had confessed to the blond that he wished he could have a child of his own someday. Lucius' bargain was crafted perfectly to get the yes he so desperately wanted from Severus' lips. He would deal with Narcissa and her own demands later.

A pair of wide, heartbroken eyes blinked lazily at Lucius before they averted towards the book covered wall that stood over the blond's shoulder, Severus' face tight and pained as his arms fell to his sides and he muttered, "I don't think…," For brief moment, it looked like Severus was on the cusp of disappearing into his head, "...no. The answer is still no."

Another tactic it was then.

"Severus, I have to appear in court in less than three days," Lucius hissed, backing out of the obviously grieving potion master's space as he began to walk behind the oaken desk. Severus' head followed the blond's movements, but he made no inclination to get up. "Even if it is very unlikely," Lucius continued, his own voice becoming a tad thicker as he trailed his fingers over the scattered papers across Severus' desk, "There is a  _ chance _ that the Ministry will find me guilty for conspiring with our Lord. If that is to happen-"

"They won't and you know it." It  _ was _ highly unlikely, but anything was possible with Cornelius Fudge as the Minister of Magic.

"Whether it does or does not occur," Lucius continued irritability, his eyes catching on a photo that was lying underneath a stack of books, "I would feel much more at ease if you were to promise to take care of Narcissa and Draco if I can not. If I plead that I was under the Imperious, I can most likely avoid taking time in Azkabian given my influence in-"

His voice pettered off as he pulled the photo out from under the towering pile of books that were stacked high on Severus' desk and got a good look at who was in the photography. It was from long ago, way back to when Severus was in his fourth year at Hogwarts if Lucius had to guess. There were two people sitting beside one another in the image, one clad in the green and silver garb of Slytherin and the other wearing the atrocious colors of Gryffindor house. It didn't take the blond very long to recognize the long red hair and freckled smile of Lily Evans Potter, a flush of anger and resentment rushing through his body as he saw how _happy_ Severus looked as he gazed longingly at his closest friend. Severus had _never_ looked at Lucius like that... Just as quickly as that beam of hatred and loathing towards the woman that Severus had _been in love with_ (Lucius had pried that horrible piece information out of the younger Slytherin student after they had completed a rather _rigorous_ _session_ in the Head Boy dormitories) engulfed Lucius' body, the reason why Severus had nearly drunk himself to death become crystal clear as well. 

"You know what," Lucius began coldly, throwing the photograph down onto one of Severus' many books as he fluidly went back around to the front of the desk, "I'm beginning to think that perhaps you are not in the best of moods to discuss such a personal responsibility." 

Raising a brow as he reached for one of the two bottles that lay on the desk behind him, Severus growled, "I don't think I will ever be in the mood to listen to your horseshit, Lucius."

Harrumphing loudly as he briskly turned on his heel and glided towards the exit to the study, Lucius slammed open the door and, no longer resisting the urge to unleash his anger upon the potions master, snarled as he began to step through, "You are quite pathetic for crying over a filthy mudblood, you know that? Honestly Severus, she never even cared for you, you bloody fool!" A look of anger blazed across Severus' features as he lowered the bottle he had been drinking from away from his lips. Cruelly, Lucius leaned against the partially open door and continued with a hiss, "Did you actually think that you had  _ a chance _ with her?! By Salazar Severus,  _ come on _ ! She was as good as Potter's the moment that she met him! Who on Earth would want  _ you  _ over someone like James Potter?! Perhaps it's a good thing that she is dead! Now you can stop disillusioning yourself with fanciful hopes and unrealistic-"

Lucius didn't get to finish his sentence before Severus hurled the large bottle of muggle liquor at the blond wizard's head, Lucius quickly ducking out of the way and slamming the door behind him to keep any of the shards from piercing his skin. With a shaky inhale, Lucius continued to walk down the hallway, ignoring the shouts and swears that followed the blond all the way back to the living room. Picking up his cane and sweeping his way towards the front door, Lucius concluded that perhaps he would need a drink of some sort once he returned to Malfoy Manor, a vague feeling of melancholy forming in the pit of his stomach as he carefully pulled his cloak around his shoulders and quickly walked out into the downpour. 


	19. Inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy was positively convinced that he was going to die. He had experienced this feeling before only a year and a half ago, when Potter had cursed him in the boy's lavatory and left him bleeding and sobbing on the ground. The blond hadn't been expecting the attack, too consumed with his self loathing and filled with the crippling fear of failing to complete the Dark Lord's wishes to notice Potter slip into the bathroom behind him. The Gryffindor had shouted something about Draco poisoning someone and the blond had panicked. The duel that had proceeded had ended with Draco in the hospital wing for three days, his skin carefully being sewn back into place and his bones being realigned all under the careful eye of Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape. 

Never before had Draco felt so lonely then he had on those cold nights in his hospital cot; His mind kept replaying the look of rage that was etched across Potter's features when the brunet had thrown the unrecognizable curse right into Draco's face. In a single second, all the progress that the blond had thought he had gained with his prior enemy (namingly the conversations and helpful tidbits they had shared with each other during Potions class when Slughorn wasn't paying attention) disappeared with a flick of a wand. And that… that had hurt Draco more than anything he had ever felt before in his life. Even more so than being cursed itself; Even more so than watching his Father be sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban; Even more so than receiving his Mark. And all of it happened simply because Draco hadn't thought his plan through to its finality, just as his Godfather had warned him about. It had all been for nothing in the end anyway, as he hadn't been able to spit out the words needed to complete the curse when the time to eliminate Albus Dumbledore had finally come. That was just one more thing that Draco would need to thank his Godfather for.

None of that mattered now though. Watching Goyle, one of his oldest and loyalist of childhood friends, fall backwards into an inferno of his own making basically confirmed that. Standing beside Blaise, one of his pale hands grasping his friend's in a near death like grip, Draco watched as Potter, Weasley, and Granger flew past them at a breakneck speed, Weasley's broom slightly alight as they curved around the curling flames. "Never thought I'd go out like this," Blaise breathed as he squeezed Draco's hand in his own, the blond wizard too busy staring blankly at the fire that was slowly creeping up the pillar the two Slytherins were standing on to answer properly. To be perfectly honest, Draco had thought that he would never get the chance to die so horrifically. He had always been convinced that he would be smart enough to evade the Aurors that hunted Death Eaters, that he would be clever enough to evade the watchful eye of the Order of the Phoenix. And even if he did get caught, he would have the security of his name to protect him. No one in the Ministry would dare oppose the words of a Malfoy, right… Now, after everything that had happened, Draco was sure that the late Cornelius Fudge wouldn't have even considered pardoning him.

There is a misconception concerning one's final thoughts before one dies. It is said that one's life would flash before their eyes before the cold embrace of Death takes them away, but that is not what Draco found. Instead, his mind decided to torture him, replaying his final moment of weakness in an endless loop as the blond wizard allowed fat tears to roll down his ashen cheeks. If he had killed Potter when he had confronted him about his wand, with both Goyle and Blaise by his sides, he wouldn't be in this situation right now. If only he had closed off the part of his mind that had  _ fallen  _ for the Gryffindor, stalling his words in Malfoy Manor and staying his hand from releasing the curse he knew all too well, Draco would not be dancing on the edge between life and death as flames scorched the bottoms of his velvet pants. Potter ( _ Harry _ ) had only asked him a question! A single damn question! And instead of answering, Draco had stood there like a  _ coward _ . Why had he had he refrained from telling Bellatrix who had been kneeling in front of him? Draco had a clue about what had made him hold his tongue. __

_ BUT WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM? _

Anyone, literally anyone, would be better than the Boy Who Lived! Potter was the reason why his Father had been placed in prison, Potter was the reason why Draco hadn't completed the Killing Curse on their Headmaster, Potter was the reason why Draco had almost  _ died _ ! If Professor Snape hadn't been there to stop the blond's internal bleeding… Then Draco would've died that night in the boy's lavatory! So why, why, why, why,  _ WHY _ had it been Potter who had caught his fancy!? 

"Look!" Blaise shouted all of a sudden, his hand pulling sharply from Draco's as he pointed towards the airborne Gryffindors that were flying back into the fire and… back towards Draco and Blaise, "They're coming back! They're coming back!" Draco swallowed as he held up his burning arm, hoping against hope that this wasn't a cruel joke that his mind was creating to help him cope with the fact that Death was looming ominously over his head.

Bravery... Stubbornness… Strength…

Perhaps those were the reasons why Draco had found himself drawn to Harry James Potter. They were qualities that Draco had always admired from afar and had never been able to encompass himself. His pure blood lifestyle, with the rules, responsibilities, and restrictions, hadn't allowed him to dwell very far outside of his family's shadow. And it was a horrible, crooked, misleading shadow that was meant to control and manipulate everyone that drew a little too close or stuck their noses in places that they didn't belong. It truly shocked the blond just how long he had attempted to fit into the impossible shape of both his Mother and Father. He was never going to be a Death Eater… no matter how hard he tried. He simply couldn't do it. More importantly, he simply  _ wouldn't  _ do it. There. That was another thing that Draco admired about  _ Harry _ : The Gryffindor had never let his familial past define who he was. The brunet had been dealt quite an awful lot in life; There were many things that Harry had briefly spoken about that could have allowed hatred to fester.  _ But it hadn't _ . Harry had created his own path and forged his own name as the infant who had slain Lord Voldemort. And unlike himself, Harry was on the winning side of the war.

Many of these thoughts circled hungrily through Draco's mind when he felt the unstable tower he was standing upon crumble underneath his shoes, a faint flush of panic flooding his entire body before the calm settled over him. If he was meant to die, then so be it. Draco wasn't someone worth saving. If Harry was too late… then he was too late.

That thought was what had fixed itself firmly to the front of his mind when the tower collapsed.

And then Draco was falling, Blaise screaming to his right as they tumbled down

down

down

down

down

towards the fire that burned far below…

But Draco didn't feel the flames burn his body as he slammed against the floor of the Room of Requirement. In fact, he didn't hit the floor at all. 

He was flying.

"You need to move forward a bit!" A familiar voice shouted into his ear, Draco's body shifting out of the arms that had caught him as one of his legs looped over the side of the broom, "Hold on!"

And Draco did, his back going rigid as he gripped the wooden stick in his hands with all his might, Harry's strong hands falling on top of his as the Gryffindor steered them through the inferno that had now engulfed the entire room. A quick glance to his left and Draco immediately felt a wave of relief overtake him as he made eye contact with Blaise. They were  _ alive _ . They were  _ okay _ . Thank Salazar.

The pair had crashed once the Gryffindor had successfully navigated his way out of the Room of Requirement, Draco landing hard on his stomach and smashing his head against the floor as Harry slammed his shoulder against the corridor's stone wall. The Gryffindor didn't stay down for long though, Weasley quickly throwing what looked like a locket into the room they had all just escaped as black smoke bellowed unnaturally from within the metallic object. Draco simply stared with a dumbstruck look on his face, one hand cradling his injured head and his other holding his body in a leaning position, as Harry slammed the doors leading to the Room of Requirement closed just as a deafening roar soared from the fires that had nearly claimed all their lives.

Blaise ran, his shoes pounding against the stone floor and sending echoes spiraling down the hallway as he spirited back to the safety of the dungeons no doubt. But Draco stayed, little grunts of pain escaping his lips as he hoisted himself to his knees and then to his feet. He could feel the three pairs of eyes stare at him as he stumbled towards Harry, his head screaming at him and urging him to rest his shaking legs. There was no noise, no protestation, no  _ nothing _ when Draco landed heavily against Harry's body and quickly placed a kiss on the Gryffindor's lips, his face quickly moving away out of embarrassment and burying itself into Harry's blood soaked chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Draco chanted wearily as he gripped the Gryffindor's clothes in both hands, nearly falling to the ground as his legs gave out from under him. A steady hand held Draco in place as Harry's other hand cupped the back of Draco's neck, the blond listening as Harry murmured quietly under his breath and buried his face into Draco's sullied hair. 

The vibrations that reverberated through Harry's chest as he spoke nearly put Draco to sleep, a feeling of peace settling over the blond's form as he tried to stay awake. It had been a very long time since Draco had felt… peacefully… That was it. Harry made Draco feel at peace with himself. He made Draco feel… like he actually  _ mattered _ . He made Draco feel like he wasn't just a piece of a puzzle that was being fit into the wrong spot. Harry made Draco feel like  _ himself _ .

Draco smiled unhappily as he gulped down another breath of fresh air, his tears leaking off of his chin and his snot unattractively clinging to the tip of his nose. The blond could feel Harry pull him even closer, the Gryffindor's arms tightening around him as he kissed the top of Draco's head. This was going to have to end eventually; All good things did. But, for now, Draco was just going to allow Harry to hold him. They could be enemies again tomorrow if they so choose.

Draco hesitantly shifted his hands from Harry's chest to his wide shoulders. Hopefully… they would be so much more than friends once the dust had settled and the battle had been won.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!


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